


"You're The Worst, You Know?"

by EllesAlwaysWriting



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: 2014 Archive, Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Infidelity, Light Masochism, Light Sadism, M/M, Mild Painplay, Multi, Recreational Drug Use, Threesome - M/M/M, and kyungsoo makes bad decisions...all day, everyones a side character except chankaisoo, jongin is only SLIGHTLY less of an asshole, narsha as chanyeol's aunt is my favorite character tbh, no one is straight but there's some implied het happenings, pcy is an asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 11:38:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 57,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12887064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllesAlwaysWriting/pseuds/EllesAlwaysWriting
Summary: Jongin makes it his duty to spend all of his free time mapping the skin of his lover with his mouth. Some might say he’s too thorough, too touchy, clingy, even, but he can’t help it. Though his significant other is vapid and cold at times, unloving and unresponsive frequently, Jongin takes every opportunity to marks his territory.Jongin can’t help but be possessive when it comes to Chanyeol.In layman's terms: Jongin isn't as stupid or trusting as he likes to make people think. Chanyeol isn't as mean or uncaring as he likes to make people think. Kyungsoo doesn't really care what people think about him, and it's the main reason he's comfortable fucking Chanyeol knowing damn well he's got a boyfriend.





	1. Promises Over Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> (I wrote this three years ago and I honestly still love it despite my writing DRASTICALLY improving, please don't judge me)

Jongin makes it his duty to spend all of his free time mapping the skin of his lover with his mouth. Some might say he’s too thorough, too touchy, clingy, even, but he can’t help it. Though his significant other is vapid and cold at times, unloving and unresponsive frequently, Jongin takes every opportunity to marks his territory.

Jongin can’t help but be possessive when it comes to Chanyeol.

They were the definition of unconventional; they were never meant to be together, yet here they were. While other couples are blowing kisses and holding hands, they’re arguing about nothing and dodging each other’s open palms. Jongin reflects on how they met with every passing day, one bad impression after another, and wonders how they still ended up occupying each other’s thoughts as much as each other’s beds. It was like being back in high school, spitting venom at the current apple of your eye, succumbing to the cliché of sexual tension and pulling against the urge to push away. And Chanyeol was constantly pushing, distancing himself from Jongin’s affection yet reeling him right back in when it diminishes, when he feels good and ready. Chanyeol knows just how to upset him, knows his weaknesses and plays to them whenever Jongin’s clutch on him slacks. He rejects Jongin’s outstretched hand as he backs toward the ledge and grabs it just as he steps one foot off.

Sometimes Jongin wishes he’d just let him fall.

He wants to fall out of love with Chanyeol.

Because somewhere along the line of playful shoving, mutual insults, and heated rendezvouses, he grew a tolerance of Chanyeol he’s been desperate to break ever since. A bit of admiration, genuine concern, and honest attraction, too. But mostly tolerance, because Chanyeol is literally the biggest pain in the ass Jongin’s every met in his life. He can’t even begin to understand his undying need to even keep the bastard around, the feeling as persistent as it is annoying. He finds himself sitting at the dinner table alone during the night, thumb tapping the rim of a porcelain mug as he rakes his mind for the reason he feels so comfortable curled up in one Chanyeol’s old sweatshirts while the aforementioned bastard sleeps in their bed.

It probably helps that the sex is incredible.

Probably.

Maybe.

Definitely.

He suffers through another gulp of steaming hot coffee as he swallows his thoughts, wallows in his own stupidity.

Okay, maybe it is just the sex.

Post-sex Chanyeol is different in ways that makes Jongin curious to which of his two faces is truly him. It’s almost like he has a soul somewhere down in there. He’s his normal self on the surface – sarcastic bite matching Jongin’s pointed words, gripping too roughly, kissing too hard – but he doesn’t slink away from Jongin’s constant touches like usual. In fact, he does a fair amount of absentminded clinging himself. Jongin chalks it up to overactive hormones.

Yeah, that’s probably it.

Maybe.

Another gulp.

Chanyeol can be clingy in his own special way; his own stupid, special way. Like when he catches anyone checking Jongin out or just being a little too polite to him. A waiter smiled at him once when their hands stopped atop one another as they reached for the same empty glass, and Chanyeol made it very clear very quickly that they were more than friends. He can be passionate in his own special way; his own stupid, special way. Jongin could do something as simple as mention another guy a little too affectionately and he’s being pressed into a wall before he can finish the sentence. It’s the only time Chanyeol marks Jongin of his own will instead of in retaliation. At times he’s so possessive and territorial it’s scary, and Jongin screams & throws things at him, but they always seem to come full circle at ‘I fucking hate you…kiss me.’ Chanyeol seems to get off on being in control, possessing him, so Jongin lets him have just that. He backs him into corners and makes empty threats Jongin knows he won’t keep. Jongin is thankful Chanyeol truly isn’t the guy he pretends to be. Their relationship would have probably reached even more volatile levels by now.

Probably.

Sip.

Definitely.

But Chanyeol isn’t abusive, he’s just a jackass. And it’s not as if he’s true to that persona, anyway - Jongin sees right through his uncaring demeanor, he always has. If he didn’t want Jongin around, he wouldn’t have started fucking him on a semi-regular basis, calling him non-stop, begging for his attention. He wouldn’t have let Jongin move in with him. He wouldn’t let Jongin rip at his body like a brand new scratching post, let him search for purchase and rationality beneath his skin as they make a mockery out of “making love.” Why would he bother if he didn’t feel the same? It’s not as if Jongin’s an easy lay or a pushover; if anything, Jongin mooches twice as much as Chanyeol, so it’s not that. He’s certain Chanyeol feels something for him, something he obviously can’t let go, considering how many times he’s had the chance to.

So Chanyeol pushes and Jongin pulls. They don’t know any other way.

If they’re not out in public or having sex, Chanyeol usually keeps to himself and treats Jongin like a burdening roommate, despite him being the one who suggested their cohabitation. He’s clingy and passionate in his own special way when Jongin shows the slightest signs of finally being fed up. Jongin equates it to the behavior of a stubborn child, only wanting something when he’s been restricted from it. The kind you seen raising hell in the checkout line, whining about wanting two pieces of candy when the mother only allows him one. Even after a fierce screaming match, he still stuffs one into his jacket pocket and walks out smiling, hand-in-hand with his unsuspecting mother.

He swirls the settled coffee grains with the last of the lukewarm liquid and braves the last bitter mouthful.

Jongin is in no way unsuspecting. He’s not stupid. He’s not a naïve maternal figure believing the best in his baby boy. He knows his overgrown child is sneaking bites from a candy bar he didn’t pay for. And Chanyeol knows he knows, but he also knows Jongin doesn’t want to know.

He doesn’t want to know who it is. He doesn’t care who it is.

Because Chanyeol is his, every inch of him. From his long, ugly toes to his unruly bedhead. His. Every discolored patch of skin, every healing scratch, every bruise and mark screams mine, mine, mine at any unwelcome body that dares to press against his property.

Jongin pities the intruder, honestly. He pities their gullibility. There’s no way they could be buying Chanyeol’s excuses for being battered so heavily. They must be young, stupid, or blind. He pities their naïvety. They must not be at the point where they realize Chanyeol has the people skills of a common pile of dog shit. He’s probably still sweet talking them, still wooing them with that bright smile and that beautiful voice that still shakily moans Jongin’s name at night.

Petty.

Stupid.

_Bitter._

He knows. But he doesn’t know any other way to think about it.

He knows Chanyeol is cheating on him, that he’s not only metaphorically that screaming, troublesome child stomping through the aisles of the grocery store, but literally. It frightens him when he realizes just how much that doesn’t bother him. He’s too comfortable with ignoring the stains on Chanyeol’s fingers, hoping he’ll stop rushing away to tend to his stashed piece of chocolate sooner or later. He knows it’ll rot eventually if Jongin keeps him here – keeps his mouth plastered to his neck, his shoulder, his chest – keeps him babbling & captivated under him. He knows it’s stupid. He knows this isn’t the way he should go about, but he does. It’s all he knows. Because Chanyeol is his. Like every mark on his body. Every bruise, scratch, abused piece of skin. Mine, mine, mine.

And with every kiss and touch and argument and apology Jongin cements the fact into his brain. He’s mine. You can have him all you want but you can’t keep him. He’s mine. He’ll always come back. I know he will. He knows he will.

Knows.

Hopes.

Prays.

He quietly discards of the mug in the sink and returns to bed, reluctantly moving back into the perfect mold of his lover’s body.

He feels a jolt of possessiveness as his eyes scan Chanyeol’s body, illuminated by the moonlight peeking through the uncovered skylight above their bed. Jongin traces over a few hickeys, marvels at his work, a personal roadmap of his conquest, and swiftly succumbs to the urge to do more damage.

“Get up, asshole,” Jongin says under his breath, hand traveling down Chanyeol’s bare chest. The tall boy stirs, wraps his arm around Jongin’s waist and pulls him closer, but that’s not what Jongin wants. He finds his hipbone, presses his thumb into the patch of indigo plastered there that he remembers causing a few days ago.

Chanyeol jumps, eyes opening slowly, and swats Jongin’s hand away. “Stop,” his voice booms. No crack or slur in earshot. He wasn’t asleep after all.

Jongin smiles. “And if I don’t?”

“Don’t tempt me,” he warns, and the grip on Jongin’s waist tightens. “You’re the one who has to work in the morning.”

Jongin does, anyway. Tempts him, because that’s all he knows how to do. “So?” He reaches up and threads his hand through Chanyeol’s hair, catches his bottom lip with his teeth. “Fuck me.”

Chanyeol groans as if he’s annoyed, but caves to Jongin’s pestering quite easily, as he always does, kisses back naturally when Jongin slots their mouths together. Jongin is working his way down his neck, untangling the drawstring on his sweatpants, when Chanyeol’s phone suddenly shakes the bedside table.

Jongin sucks his teeth. ”It’s almost 1 AM, who the fu–”

“It’s probably just Yifan begging me to cover his shift again, forget it.”

Jongin begins to protest again, but stops when Chanyeol yanks him flush onto his body and connects their lips again, stealing the fight right out from under his tongue. He submits, as he always does, lets Chanyeol flips their positions and pin him to the mattress. He sucks Jongin off quickly before turning over & pretending he doesn’t exist once again. Jongin whines for another half hour, only pulling a few halfhearted promises to make it difficult for him to walk, let alone work in the morning, if he doesn’t shut the fuck up and go to bed.

And usually Jongin takes that challenge to heart and they spend the night trying to outlast each other, but he does have to be at work at nine, and honestly doesn’t have the energy tonight. So he’ll pretend that admittedly mind-blowing quickie orgasm was enough to help him drift off, pretend he doesn’t feel Chanyeol’s arm slowly slide off his waist or his weight shift off the bed. He’ll ignore the sound of his boyfriend slipping into his jacket and shoes, the click of the door as it shuts softly. He’ll try his best to sleep peacefully alone, as he always does.

Sometimes Jongin doesn’t even wish he’d fall out of love with Chanyeol.

Sometimes he just wishes he was a heavier sleeper.

Feeding a caffeine addiction in the middle of the night probably doesn’t compliment that wish very well.

Probably.

_________________________________________________________

_u better come see me 2nite. i’ll be here til 3_

He sent that message over an hour ago and the recipient is still nowhere to be found. He’s not concerned, though. If he had been unavailable he would have said so, and he wouldn’t have opened the message if he wasn’t awake. It’s normal. It’s their dynamic. It’s spontaneous and exciting and he wouldn’t want it any other way. His coworkers say it’s unusual, that everyone wants a bit of romance every once in a while, intimacy instead of lust, but he truly doesn’t. He’s young and attractive and the thought of being tied down to one person makes his skin crawl. Monogamy makes him gag a little, to be honest. Commitment just isn’t his thing.

“It’ll be your thing once you find the right person, Satan.”

He scoffs, turning toward the man leaning against the wall beside him. He’s a young dancer that works with him, long-tan-and-handsome, toned in all the right places with a face of proportional perfection. A dramatic cut to his jaw and feline glint to his tired eyes both compliments and contradicts his shrill voice. There’s smoke rising from his face, blunt cradled in his bony fingers as he pushes off the wall to hand it back to its original owner.

The third boy in the alley is sitting directly across from him, cross-legged on dirty concrete. He takes it and chimes in softly after bringing the joint to his lips and taking a drag. “Tao’s right, you know.” He’s a dancer like the latter, both students from China working towards self-stability, but he’s a bit older, a bit shorter with a wider build. His soft facial features compliment his gentle nature and smooth voice well. Avid stoner and genuine sweetheart - there’s not much else to him. He makes a habit of handing out cheap advice on his breaks to people who won’t ask for it but look like they need it.

But D.O doesn’t remember looking like he needed it, though, so he playfully kicks the sole of the boy’s shoe. “Shut the hell up, Yixing. You know I hate that fucking nickname.”

They go through this almost every night: the cycle of his friends caring too much and him not caring at all, tapping feet and thrumming fingers to the music still blasting inside of the club. They come out to the alley to relax, smoke, pester each other, to temporarily shed the façade of their workplace.

The real world doesn’t exist inside of Phoenix. It’s just a brick warehouse nightclub to most, but to him it’s so much more. It’s a place of dreams and rapid beats, sex appeal and drugs everybody’s doing but nobody’s sees. It’s a place of reckless abandon and anonymity, without names or boundaries. A beautiful, dangerous, intoxicating atmosphere and he wouldn’t want it any other way. It’s gorgeous and fraudulent and entices him in ways reality never could. The real world doesn’t exist inside of Phoenix and if he could he’d stay there forever. He’s reminded time & time again, by people twice as wise and three times more experienced, that he can’t run from reality there…

Tao giggles beside him. “Hey, D.O, here comes your gross little fuck buddy…”

…but its nights like this that make him want to try.

Behind their usual room in the VIP section, a simple make-up of thick curtained doorways and dim lighting, Chanyeol’s head stays thrown back in its usual position on the top of the couch as deep groans fall from his lips, stuttering out every time the younger boy sinks down in his lap. He was intoxicated by the smothering heat of the body bouncing on top of him, obsessed with scraping his teeth against the sweaty skin of his neck and stretching the hem of his shirt to taste more of it.

D.O’s eyes are blown and glassy as he plays innocent and willing to please, pretends to be a pliant reciprocal of pleasure for Chanyeol to abuse to his liking, and he plays it well, up until his high approaches. There’s no need to hide his authority then, no desire from either party for him to downplay his dominance. At that point, D.O says ‘jump’ and Chanyeol asks ‘how high?’ He’ll get what he wants and won’t have to beg for it or ask twice.

D.O’s eyes suddenly narrow as he stares at Chanyeol’s face, slack and satisfied, and digs his nails into the back of his neck harshly.

Chanyeol grimaces, but at the same time lights up. Glee spreads across his face as he gazes back at D.O just as intensely.

He smirks. “Choke me,” he says too calmly.

The second the words hit his ears his hand is reaching up, squeezing experimentally once it’s snug around the other’s slender neck. He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth when D.O visibly shudders and slams his tailbone down particularly hard on his dick.

“Tighter,” he says, still half-grinning at him.

Chanyeol obeys, closing his hand more until D.O’s breath hitches and his eyes roll back into his head. He knows what’s coming next: a chorus of ‘fuck’ and ‘yes’ and ‘more’ every time he lessens his grip, followed by a blunt command to slap him across the face, ‘make it hurt.’ He’s more than happy to oblige, especially when he’s anticipating his reward.

After the fourth slap to his face D.O comes untouched between their stomachs, gasping through his orgasm as Chanyeol loosen his grip and lets him lift up quickly to slide off his lap. He opens his mouth as soon as his knees hit the floor, nosing at Chanyeol’s inner thigh. “Come down my throat,” he pants.

Chanyeol pulls off the condom suffocating his now painful erection and stroked himself quickly, angling the tip at D.O’s tongue.

“Come on…give it to me, baby,” he coaxes sweetly, rubbing circles on the thighs framing his head. “You can hit me again if you wa-”

Chanyeol might have slapped him a little quicker than he meant to, but it only made the younger boy hum in excitement after snapping his head back in a flash.

“Mmm, hahaha, fuck. Again, harder.”

And Chanyeol does hit him harder, twice with the back of his hand & palm, and D.O whimpers loudly before leaning forward and engulfing the head of his dick, swallowing around him when he spills hot into his mouth.

The most prominent smells of the VIP section in Phoenix are flavored beer and salvia smoke, amongst other unpleasant things. Well, unpleasant to anyone unfamiliar with the club scene. Chanyeol remembers how nauseous the aroma used to make him, mixed with the alcohol & strobe lights. He remembers how he’d spend a majority of the night with his eyes on the ground and steadying himself as he was rocked by the bass of the music. He found a distraction in one of the bartenders, a boy the cage dancers affectionately called Satan, though the back of his t-shirt read D.O in bold English lettering. He wondered what a squishy cherub like that did to deserve such an intimidating nickname, what devious intentions hid behind those big doe eyes. It took him a total of three interactions to discover the cold, selfish serpent that lied underneath the innocent aesthetic, and how much better those big doe eyes looked shut tight as he cried out in ecstasy.

It took them awhile to slip into this routine, where Chanyeol stops questioning why someone so small & fragile looking liked being taken so roughly. D.O’s glad he no longer has to remind his lover that he’s not made of glass; he was happy to see that questionably look Chanyeol used to give him slowly fade away. He’d go as far to that he even gets a kick out of the controlled violence now, after inflicting so much of it upon D.O’s request.

There’s something consciously fraudulent about the way Chanyeol treats him, too, like he’d much rather relish in the lie of D.O’s looks not being extremely deceiving, obviously enticed by the thought of the bookish boy submitting to him. It’s laughable in D.O’s eyes, considering he was always the one to initiate and allow any manhandling, but the excitement of being dominated coupled with a size kink is enough for D.O to entertain his fantasies as well. He mentally applauds his theatrical skills every time he has to act as if Chanyeol actually intimidates him.

There’s no gray area within their “relationship,” just when, what, and they both knew where. D.O had many casual sex partners in constant rotation, but there was something about Chanyeol that really caught him. He was in no way infatuated, just curious. The various bruises he attempted to conceal intrigued him - whoever he was with obviously wanted it to be known he was taken. Their plan had backfired, it seems, because D.O’s almost certain he wouldn’t have bothered with the lanky grease ball if he wasn’t already spoken for, so desperately desired by someone else. He wondered why…

“Weren’t you supposed to be off tonight?” Chanyeol says casually as he redresses himself. D.O hums around the rim of his empty beer bottle, dreading the thought of going to the bar for another one. He doesn’t need it, nor does he want to hear another lecture from Yixing.

“I am…but I wanted to see you now since I won’t be around here as much.”

“Why?”

Poor thing sounds upset, D.O thinks. “New job. I’ll be working during daylight instead of just sleeping from now on,” he chuckles.

Chanyeol crashes down next to him on the couch, sliding his arm behind D.O’s back and pulling him into his side. “So you’re not gonna have time for me anymore?” he coos, parting the smaller boy’s sweaty bangs with his free hand.

D.O’s first instinct is to move away from the touch, feeling it was a bit too intimate, but he knows that wouldn’t be easy. Chanyeol’s too persistent and he’s tired enough to allow it. “If you mean I won’t be available to come screw you at a moment’s notice, then yes,” he stops, noticing the slightly defeated look on Chanyeol’s overly expressive face. “I think I’ll still find the time to see you, though,” he continues with raised eyebrows. He watches the boy’s eyes fall to the glass bottle in his hand as he raises it his mouth again, just to touch his tongue to its underside teasingly. “Maybe…”

“Aww, you promise?” Chanyeol whispers, moving in as if he’s going to kiss him again.

This time he does move, pressing the bottle to the boy’s lips and peeling away smoothly. He strides over to the makeshift curtain door and turns to take one last look at the pile of limbs lying on the black leather couch behind him. He’s smiling, so brightly it almost makes D.O want to walk back over and give him a proper goodbye. “Gotta go.” He hears faint laughter and a shriek for him to make sure he keeps his promise as he walks down the brightly neon-lit hallway, but it’s drowned out almost completely by the sudden electronica that flooded his ears when he pulled back the curtain.

He really does plan on making time for Chanyeol in his new schedule…just not very soon. That’s the plan, at least, and he’s not very sure how long that plan’s gonna stay in affect. He knew he could work around ever seeing the boy again if that’s what he desired. He kind of wanted to abandon all of his bad habits at once…and honestly, Chanyeol was the most easily disposable of them all.

Chanyeol was putty in his hands, just like all his other playthings. He’s only special because he belonged to someone else, which is actually more of a convenience than D.O realized. He sees him when he wants, doesn’t have to put up with his whining or possessiveness long enough for it to annoy him. He knows that sleeping with someone like Chanyeol made him a hypocrite, considering how he had heavily cursed the man who destroyed his last committed relationship, but he didn’t think much of his inability to care. He liked the concept of being forbidden fruit too much. He lived for moments he would inhale deeply and smell the other man’s cologne lingering on Chanyeol’s skin; moments he had the time to aggravate the always fresh love bites on his body. It was terribly intoxicating and he couldn’t help but swim in the odd confidence it gave him. Sure, he was promiscuous, but he had never (knowingly) slept with anyone’s boyfriend. Maybe someone’s ex or crush, but never boyfriend. It gave him a rush like no other, just thinking about him sneaking away, leaving a warm, obviously consenting body to be with him.

Sometimes he’d see Chanyeol with other guys at Phoenix, conversations always light and passing, but the thought of one of them accidentally wandering in and catching them in the act set his skin ablaze. Would they tell his boyfriend? Has he ever brought his boyfriend to the club with the intention of hooking up with D.O, sneaking away the first chance he got? It’s disgusting and he hates how it sounds, but honestly can’t deny how much it turns him on.

Eh.

It doesn’t bother him that much. He’s got too many kinks he’s long passed questioning to let that one linger on his subconscious.

Chanyeol briefly mentions his boyfriend from time to time when they’re having sex, in the form of unprovoked and mumbled words rushing out of his mouth, like he can’t stop himself from saying it. Those are usually the same nights where he comes into the club pissed and stays that way for a majority of the night, the same nights he skips his usually playful antics and takes D.O hard against the nearest sturdy surface as soon as possible. He growls in the younger’s ear about how shameless he is, breathes out harsh words about how only low down dirty whores tempt taken men; it’s a personal kink of his they never really discuss, just lazily skate around until it’s full blown in-their-faces and D.O can’t stop himself from agreeing in tattered whimpers, begging to be fucked like the home-wrecking slut he is.

Okay, so maybe it does get him off a little. Just a little. It’s not exactly something he’s alright with admitting, though, and it definitely doesn’t do as much for him as it does for Chanyeol.

Maybe he won’t make time for the cheating little bastard after all, he thinks.

But then he remembers that Chanyeol’s tall, hot, charming, and damn good at what he does…he’s looked for less in a fuck buddy, to be frank. He’s kept worst company. He’s definitely fucked worse. He shrugs, deciding once again against caring as he checks the time on his phone, squinting when the brightness proves too much for his eyes after spending so much time in the dark. Shit…it’s already passed 3 AM. He promised himself he’d be home before then, considering how early he had to get up. Get your shit together, man, he tells himself, tucking his phone back into his pocket and pushing open the employee exit door.

There’s a couple in the alleyway, which isn’t really surprising, but the two boys still catch him off guard because they’re shouting, not making out. The one standing against the wall makes eye contact with D.O briefly, and then turns in ill attempt to hide his upset face. D.O thinks he’d recognize him if wasn’t so dark, but he didn’t feel like straining his irises from one extreme to the next so quickly, and the boy’s company didn’t look very welcoming, anyway. He could feel eyes on his back as he walked towards the street, peaking around the corner at the line of people still braving the unseasonably brisk wind to get into the club’s front entrance.

“Hey! I’m not done talking to you, asshole!” he hears one of them shriek behind him, “God, do you have to ogle every piece of ass that walks by?!”

D.O shakes his head and holds in his laughter as he walks towards a cab parked on the curb. He’s seen so many volatile relationships like that manifest and fall apart over his short life, it’s all too much. He honestly doesn’t know how other people do it. Maybe he’d suddenly find the need to be committed when he’s old and lonely and a little smarter, maybe. But he likes to think he’s plenty smart now, and he knows the last thing he wants is the stress of ‘belonging’ to another person. He wants to do what he wants when he wants to do it, and if he wanted a nagging caregiver he’d move into a nursing home or back in with his parents. For now, he’s fine with having his alone time, his numerous romantic interests, and his freedom.

Oh. And his new day job…gross.

Is there a way he could he brush up on normal human interaction in his dreams? Because he barely got through the interview without coming off like an awkward home-schooled child, and four years of nocturnal activity has his people skills a little crippled. He had a lot more experience working with drunken messes and hysterically dramatic people (…ew. I really don’t want a day-Tao).

Who the fuck even goes to a mall at 9 AM? Hopefully his first day will be uneventful. Then again, compared to Phoenix, every workplace is uneventful…

_God help me if any of my coworkers are cute…_


	2. Routines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jongin attempts to keep Chanyeol in line through the same sleepy eyes and calculated kisses he always falls for.

A small part of Jongin is happy that Amber is out sick today. Working the floor was not an option considering the morning he had – he would have definitely taken his frustrations out on an unsuspecting costumer or at the very least scared some out of the store with his immobile bitchface. No, the stock room was where he belonged today, hidden away from the outside world behind rows & columns of young adult apparel.

“Oh my God, fuck this.”

The whine is followed by the distinct clank of cheap plastic being thrown to the ground. Jongin turns towards the noise at the end of the aisle and the boy sitting on top of the legs of an upraised forklift. “I told you that thing was impossible,” he chuckles, motioning towards the Rubik’s cube on the floor.

“Maybe for dumbasses like you, but I’ve actually solved one before…that one’s rigged,” the boy complains, jumping down from his forklift throne and kicking the apparently rigged cube further down the aisle.

“Or maybe Luhan’s just smarter than you,” Jongin retorts, smiling at the offended look the suggestion twists out of the other.

“Bull…shit.” The boy tugs the ear flaps on the ushanka atop his head as he strides toward Jongin, turning to use a pair of Aviator shades hanging from a box as a mirror.

“Sehun, take that off!” Jongin exclaims, pulling at the furry hat when he steps close enough. “We’re supposed to be counting the inventory, not modeling it.”

“Ugh, alright, alright,” Sehun sighs, yanking the hat off and tossing it in an open box nearby. “God, you’re such a killjoy.”

“No, I just value my job, unlike you.” Jongin scoffs when Sehun shrugs his shoulders, fumbling through a perfectly packaged crate of tank tops. He really didn’t expect Sehun’s work ethic to have changed just because his partner-in-crime wasn’t there, but he could at least pretend to actually do some work. It was already half way through their shifts and they had only checked off a third of the new shipments to the store.

“Well, we all know why I’m special,” Sehun laughs, folding a pair of Bermuda shorts back into its plastic after scrunching his face at them. They looked better in the catalog. “As if my brother would ever fire me. I have, like…seniority, or whatever.”

“The word you’re looking for is ‘tenure,’ ” Jongin says matter-of-factly. He feels a clipboard strike him on the back of the thigh after he mumbles “and _I’m_ the dumbass here?”

“Hush, cretin.”

Jongin’s almost sure Sehun chose to work on the bottom row of boxes in the aisle so he could sit on the floor like the lazy shit he is. That, or he’s already spotted the articles of clothing he plans to ‘display’ while working the floor, clothes he always ends up ‘accidentally’ going home with. It’s a good thing his step-brother Joonmyun is the manager, or he definitely would get fired instead of being asked to come out-the-pocket when he’s caught wearing something that hasn’t been put on sale yet.

The only clothes he ever buys right away are usually for Amber, their coworker with **actual** seniority. She usually acts as a co-manager with Joonmyun, though her official title is inventory supervisor. Suspiciously both of them are out today with mono, apparently from sharing a water bottle on their lunch break. Jongin didn’t really buy it. People assume she’s more into girls because of her personal style, but she’s just as boy-crazy as the next,  and there were rumors she was looking to break Joonmyun of his Goody Two Shoes mentality.

Guess that plan worked out.

Sehun admitted to Jongin that he was a bit jealous earlier that morning. _“It’s not fair, man. All the time we spent back here together and she goes for Grandpa? I’ve had bowel movements more interesting than that guy!”_

Jongin smiles to himself again, checking off another stack of crates, then stops briefing to realize he’s done a lot of that today. Laughing, genuinely, despite his still questionable mood. He definitely felt much better than he did when he clocked in this morning, that’s for sure. He contributes it to his best friend’s company and ponders on ways to pay him back later…but decides to pluck the brat’s ear as he scoots passed him instead.

“Hey! That hurt…dick.”

That’s enough of a thank you for now.

There’s a pain in his side when he reaches up to the top shelf to retrieve another box. Sucks how he can’t stop the smug grin on his face from forming. He thinks fondly of the bruise that’s going to appear in that spot, right below his ribs.

The morning started like all the other morning-afters, after Chanyeol makes a mediocre attempt at cooking breakfast and easily lies about where’s he’s been all night. Pretending Jongin is stupid shouldn’t be so effortless for him.

 _“Ow! What the hell was that for?”_ the giant had the nerve to ask when Jongin struck him in the shoulder with his fist.

Jongin shuffled innocently, moving past him and placing his plate and coffee mug in the sink _. “Your eggs were soggy as shit,”_ he said flatly, leaving the kitchen to get dressed.

Chanyeol followed him into the bedroom, flopping down on the bed and watching as Jongin changes, accepting smacks to his chest every time their eyes met without malice.

It annoyed Jongin. He wanted him angry. He wanted to piss him off and leave him like that: furious and frustrated with no one to take it out on. Perhaps Chanyeol had caught on to his favorite of their little games. But that wouldn’t stop Jongin from playing. It never does.

 _“What are you doing?”_ he asked when Jongin slid onto the bed next to him. _“You’re gonna be late for wo –”_

Jongin hates this part, kissing that mouth after it had spent all night on someone else’s skin. He wants to clean it thoroughly, remind the bastard why he bothered coming home, how having his little fun will never truly be enough for him. He sucked at his dirty tongue as he straddled him, mussed his clothes and hated himself for getting so into this so quickly. He wanted to still be angry, but he wasn’t. He never stays angry long enough. His anger gets replaced by possessiveness, his need to mark surfacing too quickly every time. He latched onto the skin below Chanyeol’s ear and bit harshly, makes him hiss loudly, baring more of his neck as he groaned. His lips skimmed over a whelp he could feel traveled down his shoulder blade. He rolled his eyes, scratching hard over the existing mark, leaving his own red line crossing the other. There were hands under his sweatshirt, the same one of Chanyeol’s he fell asleep wearing, in record time, and he moaned earnestly at the calloused fingertips dragging over his ribs.

At any other time he would have let this continue, let Chanyeol twist him into whatever shape he wanted and go to work disheveled and achy, but he didn’t have time for that. He really was about to be late for work, plus, he was supposed to be punishing the bastard after all.

_“Wait, fuck, Jongiiiin, don’t leave yet…”_

_“But I’m gonna be lateeee,”_ he said in a sing-song voice, mimicking Chanyeol’s tone as he pushed against his chest. It really didn’t take him long to reduce his boyfriend to the needy asshole he always is. Jongin wasn’t even offput by the vice grip around his waist that stopped him from moving off Chanyeol’s lap easily – this was their routine.

Jongin couldn’t help but laugh again while thinking about how pathetic Chanyeol looked glued to his waist as he backed out of the bedroom and grabbed his keys from the table. Whining against his neck, begging him to stay, just like Jongin wanted him.

_“Come on, just - ugh, you’re not seriously doing this.”_

_“Doing what? Going to work?”_ Jongin giggled again, reaching behind himself and opening the front door. _“Yeah, I am. Bye, hun. Have fun jacking off in the shower,”_ he said, ~accidentally~ kicking Chanyeol in the shin and slipping out the door when he finally let go.

_“Fuckin’ tease!”_

_“I love it when you sweet talk me!”_ Jongin yelled back at the door before sprinting to the elevator.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” Sehun asked, breaking Jongin from his flashback.

“Nothing.” Jongin looks back over his assignments before checking off the last box on the document clipped to his board. “Finish your row so we can go to lunch already.” He snatches a pair of jeans off Sehun’s shoulder and throws them in another box before heading toward the door. “And try not to steal anything.”

“Not stealing!”

“Whatever,” he mutters, stepping out into the store. He passes a couple costumers on his way to the registers, half-heartedly asking if they needed any help. They declined, much to Jongin’s delight. He’s in a better mood, but not that much better.

He was madder at himself than mad at Chanyeol, and even that made him madder. He wishes he could be angrier, but he doesn’t really have it in him. It’s always like this. He’d rather feel stupid than angry, it’s easier to justify blissful ignorance. Being angry but doing nothing about it was a waste of energy.

“Hey, Jongin!”

He turned towards the chipper voice beckoning him and watches as his coworker Sunyoung bounced towards him, bright smile stretched across her round face. She’s dragging a boy by the wrist, a boy Jongin never seen before, and he finds himself instantly curious. Showing off boyfriends at work wasn’t really Sunyoung’s style.

“Jongin, this is the new guy I was telling you about!” she beamed, pulling the boy a little ahead of her so he was standing right in front of Jongin.

He takes a step back because Sunyoung had practically pushed him into Jongin’s chest, smiling shyly when he makes eye contact.

Oh, right, they finally filled that open position, Jongin had completely forgotten. It took them forever because Joonmyun was so picky; no one ever met all of his requirements. Jongin smiled back as genuinely as he could, noticing the boy didn’t even give him a chance to respond before his large eyes were drifting away from his face and down his body.

“Hi,” Jongin said, bowing slightly, “I’m Kim Jongin, but I guess Sunyoung already told you that.”

“Oh, right, sorry,” he says, smiling a little bigger as he bows and extending his arm for a handshake, “it’s nice to meet you, I’m Do Kyungsoo.”

_________________________________________________________

Chanyeol was doing a great job pretending he didn’t feel like shit today, he’d have to reward himself when he got home. Maybe by burning his hand on the stove again, or withstanding the urge to whack off long enough to give himself blue balls.

 _Sounds fun,_ he thinks as he flicks a crumb off his service station.

Friday evenings are never this slow at the restaurant. Maybe there was some big event for business bigwigs being held somewhere right now; he’s only seen a handful of the regulars who took their lunch breaks there today, and none of them were actually sitting at the bar, making the place look a bit barren. He couldn’t really blame them when he looked down the bar at his fellow bartender, Yifan. No offense, but Yifan’s boyfriend was one of the regulars he wishes didn’t show up today.

“I hope you two know you’re scaring away the customers,” he groans, perching his chin on his fists.

Yifan makes no strenuous moves, doesn’t crane his neck to look his friend. He only directs his gaze towards him for 2.5 seconds before giving his full attention back to the small man perched on top of the bar.

Chanyeol makes a gagging sound when they nuzzle their noses together, and the man turns his head to him. “If anyone’s scaring customers away, it’s you and your vampire bites,” he snaps.

“Shut up, Minseok,” he retorts immediately, picking up the smooth silver napkin holder next to him and checking his neck. “They’re not that bad…” He adjusts his shirt collar. “…are they?”

“It looks like Jongin tried to eat you last night,” Yifan chuckles, nipping the air in front of Minseok’s face.

He jumps, chomping back cutely and Chanyeol really wishes he had looked away because… _ew._

Minseok and Yifan make Chanyeol exceptionally nauseous for several reasons, the main being evident as soon as you spot them: they’re cute. Sickeningly cute. Aesthetically and in their actions. He’d wonder if they’re this disgustingly sweet to each other in private if he hadn’t witnessed it himself before. Another reason the couple makes him want to vomit is the enjoyment they seem to get from roping Chanyeol into their gross little Candyland. Yifan said it’s because he didn’t want him to feel abandoned by his best friend, but it’s obvious he just like torturing him with superior relationship. And it’s no secret that Minseok and Yifan enjoy making others cower before their flawless dynamic of brutal honesty and overloads of affection.

Cute couples made him sick, and unfortunately he’s force to be around _World’s Cutest Couple_ almost every day. It’s weird being around two people completely immersed in each other. Being the third wheel, and a wobbly one at that, was absolutely no fun. Yifan once joked that he rushed into his relationship with Jongin to avoid tagging along with them so awkwardly, and he fondly remembers the bruises Jongin gave him after he took too long to deny that. It wasn’t true, but he knew _thinking_ about it would tick Jongin off, and that’s something he excelled in.

They’d only been on two double dates with Yifan & Minseok, both going seemingly well, but it was obvious to everyone involved that Chanyeol & Jongin were in constant competition to see who could piss who off more, who was first to react to any cheap shots. That, combined with overt sexuality to combat Yifan & Minseok’s tenderness, resulted in some very interesting nights. Chanyeol can’t blame them for not wanting to be around him & Jongin on their ‘bad days.’

And almost every day is a bad day.

It’s Chanyeol’s fault, he knows. He knows there’s no good reason for him to even think he deserves Jongin. He’s confused as to why Jongin even lets him come home sometimes; it’s more Jongin’s apartment now, anyway.

It’s been a year. Their anniversary is coming up. He remembers, though he’s sure Jongin thinks he’s forgotten or doesn’t care at all.

The day they met was cold and uneventful. Jongin came into the restaurant with his friends, seeming quiet & unengaged at first and slowly blossoming into an alluring social butterfly as the night went on. Chanyeol knew immediately that the boy was out of his league. He looked too innocent at first, too fragile and prudish, but then they locked eyes across the bar. His mouth twisted into a sinful smirk, his eyes darkened, his entire body language and demeanor changed almost instantly, and in a flash it was gone. He slid back into the image of a giddy child as he laughed along with his friends, looking completely incapable of the predatorily executed gaze he shot in Chanyeol’s direction.

It’s the same kind of quick-change act that made him so attracted to D.O in the first pl –

_Oh, fuck._

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

He truly was a shitty person. It was almost impossible for him to not think about D.O at least a few times a day now. This wasn’t supposed to happen, he was supposed to keep their relationship purely physical…which was a stupid decision in itself considering him & Jongin were _just physical_ in the beginning, and now they’re going on a year together. A year Chanyeol knows he didn’t deserve in the slightest. A year he shouldn’t have stolen from Jongin but did anyway because he’s selfish and greedy and just a terrible, terrible person. He doesn’t expect more from himself and neither should anyone else.

Yet he runs from it, finds other people to blame it on, confirms it silently but never says it aloud. Though he knows Jongin deserves better he keeps hanging on to him. Though he knows D.O could never feel anything truly tangible for him he keeps pursuing him. Why? Because he is shit and he needs people around to accurately give the illusion that he’s human.

He’s a shitty, overbearing, immature sex addict that should at least restrict his compulsions to his boyfriend and he can’t even do that. He could open his mouth and confess to all his wrong doings ( _“the fact that I love you doesn’t negate the fact that I’ve been cheating on you for the last 4 months”_ ), stop making excuses for himself ( _“I mean, it’s not that bad…it was only one person…”_ ), and ultimately release his crimeless prisoner and let him move on…but he’s not gonna do that. Why? Because he’s a selfish, greedy shit and he _needs_ Jongin, needs him so much more than he’s ever let Jongin know. He needs someone willing to give him the illusion that he’s human. He needs the illusion that these marks mean something, that’s he’s worth keeping, worth loving.

Jongin knows this and ignores it time and time again because Chanyeol needs him to ignore it; he needs him to pretend he’s worth claiming, worth marking, to scratch and bite and batter his body on the outside the way he does on the inside, to externally provide the pain he knows he deserves. He needs to feel somewhat punished for the things he’s done to Jongin, even if it’s under the pretense of lust instead of hatred, intimacy instead of contempt. He needs to feel like he’s worthy of redemption.

But he’s not.

He’s shit. He’s slime. He’s a cheating, manipulative, worthless bag of –

“Hey! Can I get some service over here, please?”

Correction: he’s a shit boyfriend, person, _and_ employee whose lucky his boss isn’t around to scold him for being too busy slandering himself  & staring holes in liquor bottles to tend to customers.

Chanyeol turns around to see a middle aged man sitting on the stool directly in front of him, frown softening as he seems to notice the tension in Chanyeol’s hunched shoulders.

 “Sorry, what can I get you, sir?”

“Gin & tonic,” the man orders while loosening his tie. “You alright, kid?” he asks lightly, obviously aware of the role rehearsal.

 _Shouldn’t I be asking the questions?_ “Oh, yeah, just a little lost in thought,” he answers while preparing the man’s drink. Chanyeol looks to Yifan, still looking all kinds of sugary sweet at the end of the bar with Minseok’s arms around his neck, and instantly thinks of a way to change the subject. He is known for his quick wit around here, no need to tarnish that reputation over the same old routine. “By the way, due to our current atmosphere we’re running a special this evening. Every drink comes with a free barf bag courtesy of my coworker Yifan’s PDA,” he says with a smile as he places the glass in front of the man, “paper or plastic?”

The man laughs, glancing down the length of the bar to Yifan’s extended middle finger directed at Chanyeol. “That won’t be necessary, thank you.”

Minseok pulls Yifan’s arm down, fingers barely forming a ring around his wrist. “Don’t stoop to Yeollie’s level, babe,” he says, bringing Yifan’s large hand to his mouth and kissing his knuckles.

Chanyeol cringes violently.

Chanyeol really fucking hates cute couples.


	3. Stumble Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chanyeol doesn't deserve Jongin and he can't think of a better reason to take him.
> 
> Kyungsoo and his best friend discuss his new job, much to his dismay.

Jongin gets off a few hours before Chanyeol on most weekdays, so he busies himself with miscellaneous housework, cooking, laundry, watching whatever drama is running until he gets home. Jongin does the cleaning mostly out of fear. Chanyeol’s place was a complete pigsty before he moved in and he couldn’t bear allowing it to look like that again. At least not while he’s living there.

Jongin has thought about moving out before, about four months into their relationship, but he never saw it through. This was the first time he had been offered an invitation for cohabitation and he wasn’t sure about accepting it, he didn’t want to move too fast…that is until he walked in on his roommate and Sehun having sex in the living room for the seventh (?) time. Yeah, it was definitely time to move, and fast. He really couldn’t stand living with Luhan in the first place. On top of being a bit of a creep, he was messy and loud and told the lamest jokes; he was a little more likable with Sehun wrapped around him, though. Just a little. After a while Jongin began to feel like a third wheel in his own home, so accepting his boyfriend’s invite was a no-brainer. He already had enough of his crap at Chanyeol’s, anyway.

A few months later when whatever Luhan and Sehun had fizzled out, Luhan offered his him room back, and he found every excuse to turn it down. He was comfortable, he was happy, his commute was shorter, he and Chanyeol were getting serious – _he told me he loved me last night._

Love…Jongin scoffs as the word echoes in his head. _What a burdening emotion_. And yet he felt it with every inch of his body. He hates it. Hates it almost as much as he hates the sting of steaming hot coffee raking down his throat, but like everything else he hates, he’ll tolerate it.

Jongin’s gulping down the last of the cup he’d been nursing for an hour as Chanyeol unceremoniously barrels through the front door around midnight. _Speaking of tolerating…_

He pretends not to hear him, eyes fixated on what looks to be a Dream High rerun or something, he had been too lost in thought to say for sure.

“ _Luuucy!_ ” Chanyeol chimes from the coat rack, “I’m homeeeee~” He’s got a hand under Jongin’s chin and is tilting his head up before the younger can even finish sighing in disgust.

“You know I hate the fucking Ricky Ricardo voice,” he whines after accepting the small peck to his forehead.

Chanyeol only smiles down at him in response, softly stroking his thumbs over his cheeks. He bends over the back of the couch, running one of his hands down Jongin’s chest as the other settles on his neck.

“There’s bokkeum-…bap on the…stove if you –” Jongin tries to say against Chanyeol’s lips, but the sentence dies between their mouths and he decides it’s best to just give it up.

“Not hungry,” he mumbles, nuzzling his nose into Jongin’s cheek.

“Obviously. How was work?” Jongin asks nonchalantly, turning around to kneel on the couch cushions. Chanyeol’s hands never leave his body, ushering him around and settling on his waist when they’re face-to-face.

“Long and annoying,” he answers.

Jongin smirks, ready to compare the statement and the speaker, but lets Chanyeol shut him up instead. He kisses back gently and wraps his arms securely around his boyfriend’s neck. It starts as sweetly as it always does, and Jongin’s waiting for the moment the kiss deepens and he’s swept off the sofa and into bed.

Chanyeol wastes no time doing just that – they _did_ have something to finish. He practically drags Jongin up without another word, pinning him to the wall and devouring his mouth as Jongin claws at his clothes. Jongin rids him of his shirt quickly and unbuttons his pants just as fast, determined hand squirming into Chanyeol’s boxers as he nips at his jawline.

Chanyeol’s purposefully holding back. Jongin can tell. It happens from time to time, only when Chanyeol’s looking to annoy him because Jongin knows he’s never too tired to fool around.

On the other hand, there have been times something has bothered him enough to effect even that. And besides being genuinely worried, he’s not exactly comfortable with doing all the work. Jongin’s spoiled, after all, and the absence of Chanyeol’s usually grabby hands as they stumble into their bedroom is painfully evident to him. They’re still holding firm on his waist, but it’s not enough. “What’s wrong?” Jongin asks, pulling back to look at him.

“Nothing,” he answers quickly, blank expression obviously irritating Jongin, because his back collides with the mattress almost immediately. Jongin settles between his knees and Chanyeol resists the urge to push Jongin’s hand away when he presses his fingers into the inside of his thigh, aggravating an already painful bruise. He deserves it, deserves the negative stimuli shooting messages of anguish to his brain. He knows he deserves any pain Jongin inflicts on him, so he welcomes it.

“Stop lying to me,” Jongin says, fingertips dancing up to the tent of Chanyeol’s underwear. When he averts eye contact, Jongin dips his head down to replace his hand, innocently dragging his tongue over the length of his clothed erection. He grips the sheet when Jongin suddenly fits his mouth over the head and sucks, teeth scraping over the underside harshly. Jongin’s completely aware that he really, really hates that, but it’s worth it; it gets him the visceral response he wanted.

“Fuck, ugh, I told you it’s nothing.” He doesn’t resist the urge to push Jongin’s head away when he ignores him and repeats the action anyway. “Dammit, Jongin, stop!”

“Tell me what’s wrong then,” Jongin snickers, standing up to strip off his shirt.

“Well, for starters,” he pauses, propping himself up on his elbows, “I’ve got this invasive jackass of a boyfriend who’d rather ask me stupid questions than blow me properly.” The look on Jongin’s face is a strange cross between offended and amused when it emerges from his shirt and Chanyeol ignores it, sitting up to help him push his pants down. ”Now let it go before you make me mad,” he warns, grabbing his waist.

“Oooo,” Jongin coos, reaching out to grip his hair, “tough guy, huh?”

Jongin pulls hard and Chanyeol squeezes his arm in retaliation. ”Ow! Bitch.”

“God, you and that sweet talk,” Jongin starts, tone set and monotone as he steps out of his jeans, “gets me so hot…”

Jongin situates himself in the position they were in this morning, straddling Chanyeol’s lap and rolling his hips down hard. He keeps his fingers slotted in his hair, neck barred as Chanyeol sucked lightly at his skin, pulling every time the suction slacks. He wants marks, want to be able to gaze lovingly at his own body the way he does his boyfriend’s, but Chanyeol rarely indulges unless ordered to. Jongin is the dominant in their sexual relationship, he always has been. Despite bottoming most of the time and Chanyeol initiating their activities, Jongin is always the aggressive one. He does most of the scratching and biting and hitting until Chanyeol’s riled up enough for him to join in the fun. Sure, he does all manhandling and a lot of the dirty talking, but he only does as Jongin tells him, even when he knows he shouldn’t.

Jongin rides him like he’s purposefully trying to bruise his tailbone and Chanyeol lets him, large palm fixed around his neck to squeeze every time Jongin dragged his nails down his chest. “Are you, gonna tell me what…pissed you off, at work today?” Jongin asks brokenly.

“Didn’t I – _fuuuck_ – tell you to…let that go already?”

“Yeah…so?”

“So~ ask me that shit again and I swear to God I’ll –”

“You’ll what? _Hurt_ me?” Jongin laughs shortly, a lot shorter than he intended in fact, because Chanyeol’s scooping him up and flipping them over before he can get out the second chuckle.

Chanyeol stares down at Jongin’s face as he breathes heavily. He looks shocked, but he knows it’s just an act. He knows Jongin well, and this is exactly what he wants. “Yes.”

Jongin’s expression hardens immediately, eyes dropping as he looks down at where their bodies meet. “Good,” he says, “hurt me.”

It’s definitely a command, and Chanyeol’s definitely okay with that. Because when he pushes he can always depend on Jongin to pull, and all he wants to do is fill any empty space he can while indulging in all the things he knows he doesn’t deserve and couldn’t resist if he tried.

And Chanyeol wants – he wants _so_ badly – to resist this, to reject Jongin fully and actually mean it, but when Jongin’s all hard kisses and even harder touches he honestly can’t control himself. Then again, he can’t control himself when Jongin’s all butterfly kisses and soft cuddles either. He can’t resist the boy at all, and maybe if he could Jongin would finally get bored of him and leave.

But just the thought of Jongin leaving makes him nervous. He can already feel the wheels of his twisted mind turning, concocting ways to make him stay. _Make him,_ as if he could force Jongin to do anything. His ill attempt at forcefulness is a small dust storm compared to Jongin’s tornado. He holds the power in this relationship but lets Chanyeol feel like he’s in charge because he _needs_ to be, it’s just how they work. So if Jongin really were to decide he was leaving, Chanyeol knows he’d be helpless to stop him, and that scares him. Jongin is the only concrete thing in his life right now, and he honestly doesn’t know what he’d do without him. Besides lose the rest of his mind, that is.

Jongin whines under him and he blinks a few times, wondering how spaced out he just was. “Chanyeol,” he whines again, clawing at his shoulder blades and arching his back off the bed. “Come on, baby, don’t stop now…”

Chanyeol hadn’t even realized he had paralyzed himself with his thoughts, dropping his head to kiss Jongin apologetically and mumbling a barely audible “sorry” against his lips before sinking into him again.

Jongin jerks instantly, rolling his hips up to meet every thrust and Chanyeol can tell by the way he’s watching him – hooded, suspicious eyes trained on him even though he’s moaning and squirming like crazy – that he’s going to ask him what’s wrong again as soon as this is over.

Chanyeol figures he should be thankful Jongin gives a shit in the first place. He should be happy to have an invasive jackass of a boyfriend. He’s lucky to have someone who’s actually concerned about him.

He’s lucky, period. He knows that all too well.

So he fucks into Jongin like he deserves this bliss, like he’s okay with the fact that Jongin genuinely loves him, when he actually hates it. Hates that he’s exactly what Jongin wants and Jongin’s exactly what he needs. Even that isn’t enough for him; he still can’t be completely faithful to him.

He does his best to withhold the flood of desire that came with his impulsions, but with a willing boyfriend and even more willing lover, it’s easy for Chanyeol to blame everyone around him for his problems. Temptation is his muse and a bitch to deal with. He’d pat himself on the back for cutting back on sexual partners when he and Jongin actually started dating, but he can’t be too proud of himself. He has no right to be. He doesn’t deserve this, he doesn’t deserve Jongin in the slightest; that fact is getting harder and harder to ignore.

But for now, he’ll hide from his self-hatred in the crook of Jongin’s neck, buried to the hilt inside the trophy partner he shouldn’t have won, and accept the painful whelps forming on his back as the only punishment he’ll get for a while. The absolute least he can do is keep Jongin happy. The absolute least.

_________________________________________________________

Kyungsoo wouldn’t call today a success, but it wasn’t exactly a failure either. Get through his first day of work? Check. Get through his first day of work without embarrassing himself? Check. Get through his first day of work without wanting to blow one of his coworkers?

…not check. Not check at all. Negative check.

Because he can handle himself around cute girls, cute girls don’t fluster him. Both Amber and Sunyoung are super cute, and he can see himself managing his hormones well around them. Cute guys don’t fluster him either; he can handle cute guys just as well. Joonmyun was pretty cute and so was his little brother, Sehun. Minho is cute. Henry is even cuter.

And then there’s Kim Jongin.

Who is not cute. Kim Jongin is _not_ cute…okay, he’s a little cute.

But mostly, Kim Jongin is just…drool-worthy.

Kyungsoo prays he didn’t actually drool when they met, fuck, he can’t remember if he did. He did stare, though, a lot longer than he meant to. Like, almost all day. He got a good look at _everything_. The face was truly enough, but then he got to the neck and the shoulders and the arms and the thighs and the cute little butt coupled with the suggestively placed fold in his pants ( _oh God, please just be a pants fold…_ ). He kept forgetting that he’s not protected by the seizure-inducing strobe lights and darkness of Phoenix anymore. He had to keep reminding himself that normal people hide their perverseness. _That’s like, Normal Person Rule #13: don’t openly ogle strangers in broad daylight._

“But you’re not normal. Like, at all.”

Kyungsoo turns his head towards the indifferent voice and dumps the last few bits of popcorn into the owner’s lap.

“Hey!”

“Fuck you, okay?”

“What?! You’re a weirdo, Satan. Embrace it,” the other says, brushing the half-popped kernels off his sweatpants. He smiles in Kyungsoo’s direction when he sputters at the bit of encouragement.

“Like you’re one to talk, Dae, so once again, fuck you.”

Jongdae laughs, taking his feet off the coffee table in front of the couch and sliding down to kneel beside it. “But I embrace the fact that I’m eccentric, I don’t pretend I belong with day walkers.”

Kyungsoo scoffs. _Day walkers,_ his little nickname for anyone he deemed ‘unfun.’ So pretty much anyone who isn’t stoned all day or has a daytime occupation. Kyungsoo was far from a day walker, even with his new 9-5. “Oh, so I’m a weirdo, and you’re ‘eccentric,’ huh?” He chuckles, kicking his legs up into Jongdae’s former spot on the couch.

“Yup,” he quickly spits out, adding a Cheshire Cat smile as he pulls out his wallet. “Only weirdoes ramble all night about guys they’ve only known for 9 hours.”

Kyungsoo fits his foot between his shoulder blades and pushes him forward lightly. He’s right, though. Kyungsoo knows he is. He had only met Jongin today and he’s already jawing about him to his roommate.

In hindsight, Kyungsoo concludes that he should have seen the bump in the road coming, considering how pristinely the day had started. He actually woke up on time, so he didn’t have to fight Jongdae for the shower. He had time to grab breakfast before heading to the mall. He remembered to be polite and appropriate and even helped a really annoying customer with a surprisingly minimal amount of sass. He ignored the text he got from Chanyeol right before his lunch break.

And then he met Jongin, and all he could do for the rest of the day was find every excuse he could to be near him. This new resolution to stop mixing business with pleasure was going to be hard. Really hard. At least he was successfully sustaining from most of his bad habits like he promised himself he would. He hasn’t had anything stronger than weed in almost three weeks.

But even partial sobriety felt weird, and with the company he keeps, he knows it’ll only be a matter of time before falls back into his old ways. His friends, Jongdae, especially, seemed to unintentionally tempt him at every turn.

Like now, as he watches Jongdae pick a lone razor out of his wallet, along with two short cut straws and a small plastic bag.

“Can you at least do that in the bathroom or something?”

“Hell no, ya big baby,” Jongdae snaps, waving him off his free hand.

Kyungsoo knew he wasn’t going anywhere, not when he already had a perfect line of powder cut on the table. Jongdae offers him the second straw and he shakes his head. “Nah, I’m okay.”

“Oh! Right…day walker,” Jongdae chuckles. “Good luck with that.”

Kyungsoo knows this is his own asshole-ish way of respecting his wishes. He’s always been one to offer a chance to fall off the wagon, anyway, so he won’t take it personally.

Jongdae’s a lot more into quick fixes than living responsibly, it’s the reason they became friends in the first place. He was the spoiled rotten trust fund brat who needed a friend, and Kyungsoo needed someone to get high with. They fit well together, and even though Jongdae’s a dick, he’s actually a really good person underneath it all. Kyungsoo knows he’s only teasing him out of habit, not malice. He’s not big on verbal encouragement, but he’s snatched drugs from him before and even paid for his rehab once. Every time Kyungsoo’s wanted to make a change Jongdae’s been there to support him, although the motivation to clean himself up always seems to escape him. The rich kids with all the opportunities in the world are always the wild ones, he guesses. He knew enough of them to make the assumption.

Jongdae suddenly shakes his head vigorously, sniffling right after and pops up from the floor. “We got any beers left? I don’t think we have any beers left. We don’t. We don’t have any left, shit, I’m gonna go steal some from The China Twinks, I’ll be right back!”

He’s in the kitchen, back in the living room, and out the door before Kyungsoo can interrupt his rambling to remind him there’s a case under the sink and how much Tao hates that nickname. He laughs to himself, so used to the buzzing blur of Jongdae now that this behavior isn’t even abnormal. Kyungsoo ponders on the idea of chasing after him, but Tao & Yixing only live two floors up in the same apartment building, and Jongdae’s a pretty high-functioning tweak…he’ll be fine.

His gaze travels to the mess on the table Jongdae didn’t bother to clean up as he flips through television channels.

“…Fuck it,” he shrugs, dragging his index finger through the remnants of white on the coffee table. He looks at the crescent moon of coke on his finger tip and at the tiny bag still on the tabletop before rubbing it onto his gums. He’s never really like the crash of snorting that stuff, anyway. He’ll settle for the numbness and hope it curbs his appetite for bad choices.

The sudden beeping of his phone makes him jump, grabbing it immediately and sliding open the message before even seeing who it was. Only one person texts him this late nowadays, and he had already blown him off once today…

**_hey what r u doing?_ **

Oh, lovely. He wants to small talk. So he’s not horny. Good. Kyungsoo has to get up in the morning and he doesn’t really feel like going out. Might as well indulge. He’s been pretty well behaved today.

_watching tv, u?_

**_eating bokkeumbap_ **

_aww did ur housewife make it 4 u?_ :P

**_lol stop calling him that… & yeah he did_ **

_cute. save me some ^^_

_________________________________________________________

Jongin wakes up during the middle of the night, unfortunately. He doesn’t have to be to work until after noon, and he was looking forward to sleeping in. He looks up at the skylight, still a clear dark blue ocean of hidden stars. It’s still early. He turns over, unsurprised by the empty spot beside him. He _is_ surprised, however, by the light pouring into the room through the cracked door. He accidentally rolls right into its path and has to shield his eyes. “God, the least the bastard could do is turn off the lights when he sneaks out,” he huffs. Jongin lies awake for a few minutes, hoping he can ignore the light long enough to go back to sleep, but it proves too much. He somehow wills his tired body out of bed and makes his way to close the door, and of course the only thing not illuminated by the invading light is the leg of the bedside table he trips on.

“Ow, fuck! Stupid fuckin –”

“You okay?”

Jongin jerks his head up to see Chanyeol leaning on the counter, hovering over the wok of saewoo bokkeumbap he had cooked earlier, almost naked in Jongin’s boxers. “Oh. You’re here…”

“Uhh…yeah,” he says cautiously, placing his phone back on the counter. “Where else would I be?”

Jongin wants to answer that with something chaste and unsubtle, but he’s not in the mood to argue. He’s here, that’s all that matters. As much as Jongin loves to step on his toes, he’ll let him be for now. He strides over to Chanyeol’s side and rests his head against his shoulder, grabbing his hand just as he’s bringing the wooden spoon up to his mouth.

Chanyeol let him lead the food to his own mouth and smiles back when he grins up at him. “The shrimp are a little rubbery,” he complains half-heartedly.

“They are not! Fuck you,” Jongin cackles, slapping Chanyeol’s bare chest a little hard because he really does hates it when Chanyeol makes fun of his cooking, even when he knows he’s joking. He fetches his favorite coffee cup out of the sink and rinses it out quickly before moving to the coffee maker.

Chanyeol knows better than to ask why he’s drinking coffee at 2 AM. He knows better than to ask Jongin about coffee at all. He watches as Jongin spins his creamer rack with one finger, trying to choose which flavor he wanted.

Jongin doesn’t flinch when Chanyeol’s hand appears on his hip, urging him to bend over the counter top. It’s not an unfamiliar position, and he figures it’d be a good way to pass the four or five minutes he’d have to wait while the coffee brewed. “Whatcha doooing?” he asks playfully, pushing his ass into Chanyeol’s groin.

“Nooothing~” Chanyeol coos, mimicking Jongin’s tone. He sets the wok that was in his other hand on the counter next to Jongin and brings a spoonful of rice to the other’s mouth.

They stay like that, Jongin grinding into Chanyeol as he continues to feed Jongin & himself, until the coffee finishes brewing. Chanyeol checks his phone as Jongin prepares his mug and he pretends not to notices the tiny smile he tries to hide as he’s replying. Jongin rolls his eyes. _He’s here. That’s all that matters._ It’s all that matters to Jongin.

Jongin sits on the counter as he drinks his coffee and Chanyeol leans against the fridge, a leg’s length away in their small kitchen, and finishes off the fried rice. Jongin tells him twice to stop eating from the wok with his cooking utensils and Chanyeol ignores him both times, moving Jongin’s foot off his thigh every time he presses his toes into the side of his half-hard dick. They make casual conversation out of their confusion concerning footjobs and decide to google it later (“…if you really want me to do that I wanna know how to do it right.”). Jongin then spends the next few minutes on his knees in front of him, complaining about Chanyeol’s feet and the various places on his body he never wants them near as he licks lazily at his erection. Chanyeol ignores the repetitive beeping of his phone long enough for Jongin to get him completely hard, then retrieves it off the counter and speeds back into the bedroom to place it on the charger.

Jongin meets him in the doorway and shoves him backwards, giggling at the way he stumbles back clumsily and leaves his coffee mug forgotten in the kitchen. As much as wasting a hot cup of crème brûlée irritates him, the thought of wasting a good day with Chanyeol is even more irritating…and he likes to think today was a good day.


	4. Invitations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not all invitations are cut the same. They can be subtle, they can be blunt, but the best ones are secretive.

After a few more successful weeks at work, Kyungsoo congratulates himself on two months of pseudo-sobriety by covering Jongdae’s shift at Phoenix. It’s the equivalent of dropping a recovering alcoholic at a brewery, but he likes to think he has more control than the average addict. He’s a user, not an abuser – his crimes against his body were all ones of convenience, and Phoenix is a literal cesspool of convenience. It was the ultimate test of his willpower in his eyes, and he’s doing pretty damn good so far. His nose is clear, his tongue is clean, and he’s only had one shot all night, courtesy of two very pushy Brides-To-Be. Everyone else has respectfully accepted his refusal and moved on to the next willing partygoer.

It was almost 3 AM before he knew it, and business at the bar was slowing down, excluding the bachelorette party crowd. He hadn’t worked alongside Jonghyun in a while, he couldn’t remember if he’d always been this clumsy around him, or if he was just rusty behind the bar. Jonghyun’s an attention whore on the regular, though, so it’s not like he wasn’t trying to distract him in the first place; he just hadn’t remembered exactly how to function around gyrating half naked men yet. He eventually got back into his old routine and survived the night with little-to-no bad behavior.

Kyungsoo is alternating between counting his tips at the more deserted end of the bar and watching a still shirtless Jonghyun buff tables when the clinking of beer bottles behind him calls for his attention.

"Yoo-woo~! Bartender!"

He smiles instantly, looking over his left shoulder in the direction of the sweet, familiar voice. One of the two brunettes before him is leaning over the bar, beckoning him closer with a crooked finger. The other is swinging her slender legs side to side, jerking the swiveling bar stool back & forth childishly and shaking her shoulders along to the still pulsing music.

"Question," the shimmying one starts, not bothering to stop swaying back & forth, "does last call apply to entertainment?"

"Technically," he replies, collecting a few of the bottles the two had dumped onto the bar-top and chucking them into the wastebasket, "but for you girls, I think I can make an exception."

"Excelllllent~" she half-sings, half-slurs. "Mama Jung’s driving tonight so wanna ride this buzz all the way home, ya’ know?"

"No problem, Jinah." He knows the wink isn’t necessary, but it’s almost like a nervous tick he can’t control around women. It’s gotten him in trouble a few times, and depending on the contents of the conversation there’s a 50/50 chance they’ll either find it demeaning or flattering.

Luckily, Jinah and Jooyeon fell into the latter category most of the time, but probably only because they know him well enough.

Kyungsoo met the two, as well as his only close female friends, straight out of high school, while desperately trying to escape his parents’ dead end intentions for him (imagine, Do Kyungsoo, forced to obtain a degree he doesn’t want, becoming some stiff bureaucrat, or worse – _someone’s husband_ ). He was mere weeks from accepting that as his ultimate faith when he met a woman named Im Jungah at one of the suffocating black tie affairs Jongdae’s parents threw from time to time. She was friendly and generous and _seemed_ conservative enough, considering her ability to navigate the room of businessmen and beauty queens smoothly and confidently.

_“So, I heard from a little birdie that you’re looking for a place to crash…I think I could help you out, sweetie…as long as you’re willing to work for it…”_

Kyungsoo originally felt the woman was implying prostitution (at that point, he wasn’t even that opposed to the idea), but luckily the only thing she wanted in return for paying for his apartment was working in her gentleman’s club. The After School Playhouse operated like a burlesque dream of naughty school girls, lusty domestics, and skimpy animal-themed lingerie – a simple procurer of the classics of pervasion. He’d only have to perform on Tuesdays & Thursdays, the Playhouse’s male revue nights, and his remaining hours were spent at the bar and writing original songs for the girls. He worked closely with one performer, a flirtatiously awkward, leggy brunette who eventually took more interest in Kyungsoo himself rather than his songwriting.

The same flirtatiously awkward, leggy brunette sitting before him as he tops off the garnish on Jinah’s mojito and hands it to her.

"Thanks, babe." She slips away quickly after taking a sip and meeting Jooyeon’s slanted eyes. _Yeahhh, she definitely wants me to scram._

"You’ve been quite the stranger lately…Jonghyun tells me you’re a day walker now," she giggles, fixing a fly-away tuff of hair behind her ear.

"Jonghyun tells a lot of people a lot of things." He glances down the bar, calculating the chances of the bottle cap in his hand actually hitting the imaginary target on Jonghyun’s temple. He decides it won’t make it and tosses it in the trash instead. "So, you’ve been looking for me, huh?" he asks coyly.

"Hmm…maybe…" She raises both her eyebrows suggestively to challenge Kyungsoo’s single arched brow.

He’d been watching her most of the night, stealing glances as she gave lap dances to a few lucky women from the bridal party, including the brides themselves. He realized he missed watching her dance every night, missed watching the enticing way she swung her hips and flipped her hair over her shoulder, and how all that graceful poise disappeared when she stepped off stage. Under the smoke and mirrors of the show, she was sweet and silly, charming in a less seductive way, but it attracted Kyungsoo all the same.

"So, what are you doing when you get off? We didn’t really have time to catch up properly tonight." She laughs again, something she does when she’s nervous, and even though Kyungsoo didn’t plan on shooting her down completely in the first place, he doesn’t think he has the heart to now. Beneath the glitter eye shadow and crystal-encrusted bikini top, she still just goofy little Jupal, and he fully intends to keep his promise.

"Well, I have to get a few hours of sleep and go to work like a good little day walker," he takes her hand in his gently, watching her face fall and perk back up all in one second, "but how about dinner?"

"I’m technically free tonight, but tomorrow night’s good for me, too. What about you?"

"Whatever," he shrugs, "I’m yours whenever you want me, dear." He kisses the back of her hand and hears Jonghyun gag behind him as he scoots by to the cash register.

"Okay…Wellington’s, tomorrow at nine?" She’s straightening up now, reluctantly pulling her hand away from his as she undoubtedly blushed.

"Nine’s perfect."

"Good…soooo, guess I’ll see you tomorrow night, then?" Tucking back hairs that are nowhere near out of place, another one of her tells. Jooyeon’s refreshingly simple compared to everyone else he knew, she was easy to please and understanding; he figured they would have ended up together if he was interested in that sort of thing.

Kyungsoo smiles and leans over the bar to kiss her cheek, the calming heat against his lips the only evidence of her blushing under her heavy makeup. “Can’t wait.”

Jonghyun butting in to make moaning sounds eats at their last chance to end the conversation casually before Jungah’s rounding up the girls. She stops for a short hug and hello, asking how he’s enjoying Phoenix and playfully complaining about how the boy she got to replace him can never make her Cosmopolitans quite as good as he could.

The street is unusually calm and underpopulated, silent besides the quiet chatter of a small group of people in the alley and the sound of cars zooming by. It makes Kyungsoo a little uneasy, having been so accustomed to and more comfortable in loud, lively places; it’s a lot easier to escape noise than silence. Now he remembers why he always hated working until closing. There aren’t any cabs out that he can see, so his only other option aside from calling a car service is to call Jongdae, and he’s probably already checked out mentally for the night. No reason to let that dude get behind a wheel in the first place.

 _Ugh, we really need another car_ , he thinks, pulling out his cellphone to dial a cab service. He can feel the presence of someone standing beside him, but pays the person no mind. He thinks they’re waiting to cross the street or about to ask him for directions, so he keeps his head down.

But then the person moves behind him, actually casts a shadow over his shoulder, and his first thought is to hit first and ask questions never. His personal space was being invaded rapidly and he could now feel the stranger’s breath on his neck. He jerks, stepping off the curb and swinging his arm before even attempting to look at the person’s face.

"D.O, stop, it’s me!"

His eyes fall on their feet, too embarrassed to look the person in the eye. “Jackass,” he mumbles, striking them with his unrestrained arm, “you scared me half to death.”

"Sorry, sorry."

They chuckle together as Kyungsoo wrestles his other arm out of their grip. “What are you doing here?”

"I just wanted to see you…"

He looks up, unfortunately finding all the sincerity in the world in the gaze he meets. It made him blush uncomfortably. Dammit, he wasn’t supposed to look so happy to see him. “Well, you saw me,” he smirks, turning around and pulling out his phone again. “And now you can see me leave, bye.”

"Hey, wait."

There’s warmth against his back, arms enveloping him, and his phone and hands disappear under the button of a black jacket. “What the hell?” The person's laugh is infectious; he can’t help chuckling along as he wiggles against them, literally trapped inside their coat. Damn his small stature. “Let me go!”

"Don’t act like you’re not happy to see me," they hum, nuzzling at his ear.

"…I’m not," he says, stomping his foot childishly. _Why is this damn button so hard to unfasten?_ "Egomaniac."

"Aww, is that any way to talk to your chauffeur?"

"My what?"

"You need a ride home, don’t you?"

 _I really shouldn’t…_ “Well…” _don’t you dare_ – “yes…yes, I do.” _Idiot._

Something tells him he’s probably gonna regret this soon. Maybe.

Someday.

Eventually.

________________________________________________________

**_“What are you doing?” Chanyeol asked across the hood of his car, “why are you getting in the -“_ **

**_"You said you were gonna give me a ride home, right?" Kyungsoo asks, crawling into the backseat and leaving the door open behind him. He rests his chin up on the driver’s seat, peering up curiously at Chanyeol, whose still standing outside the car._ **

**_He rolls his eyes, slamming the driver’s side door and walking around the back of his car to the still-open door on the other side. Kyungsoo’s lying on the backseat now, propped up on his elbows with his left leg swung over the middle armrest. “I really did just want to get you a ride home, ya’ know…”_ **

**_"Bullshit. You & I both know that’s not all you wanted…now come here…"_ **

Chanyeol shifts, arms crossed defensively as he squirms on the supposedly plush couch. He’s never liked this part, relaying every detail of his indiscretions to the prudish skirt sitting in the large armchair across from him. You’d think a sex therapist would be a little less squeamish. To be fair, Chanyeol _was_ a notorious over-sharer, and always got a cheap laugh off the way her face would twist in disgust when he’d get too detailed with his story telling.

"You had sex with him again?" she asks flatly.

He thinks about answering that question sarcastically, _no, of course not, we just played patty cake and braided each other’s hair,_ but he’s done enough of that today. He’s even boring himself. “Yeah," Chanyeol sighs, kicking his leg up over the back of the couch.

He was beyond pretending like these sessions are actually helping him, or that they’d probably be more effective if he took them seriously. Dr. Hyojin wasn’t telling him anything new anymore. _He’s got dependent personality disorder, he places too much emphasis on romantic relationships, he’s not open enough with his feelings, borderline manic-depressive, blah blah blah._ At this point, she spends most of the hour & a half just scolding him like a disappointed mother and begging him to do the impossible.

"I still think these discussions would be more proactive if you’d invite your boyfriend to come as well.”

That’s literally all she keeps asking of him. He’s gone through all the mental gymnastics he can to avoid admitting he just doesn’t feel comfortable doing that. “Didn’t I already tell you therapy gives him severe anxiety? If he has a panic attack and like, dies or something, I’m blaming you.” Truthfully, the only person who’d end up dead in that situation is probably him. He knows Jongin _knows,_ but he doesn’t know how much he knows.

"I just don’t think it’s helping your relationship very much if you’re the only one seeking my assistance."

"Jongin doesn’t need to seek your assistance, okay? He’s fine. My parents aren’t paying you to help my relationship, anyway, Hyojin.”

" _Dr. Park_ ," she corrects harshly, "I see your respect for my status still hasn’t returned."

"Yeah, it kinda checked out indefinitely that Christmas you made my sex life the dinner topic, _Hyojin_."

"Look. If you’d rather waste today’s session being a dismissive little punk, I think we should cut it short and save this time for when you’re feeling a bit more receptive.”

"That is literally the best thing you’ve said all day, Dr. Park," he smiles, sitting up and straightening his clothes. "See ya next week."

"Oh, and Chanyeol?"

He freezes, hand on the polished brass doorknob. “Yessss?”

"Group is on Thursdays…if you’ve changed your mind about joining," she says, giggling when Chanyeol nearly jumps as she puts her hand on his shoulder. "I think you could learn a lot from the others there."

"I’ll think about it."

She wipes imaginary dust off his arm before kissing her index finger and pressing it to his cheek shortly. She then opens the door herself and nudges him out. “Take care of yourself, Chanyeol,” she says sweetly, earnestly.

He turns and places his finger to her forehead in return. “I will. Bye, Aunt Hyojin.”

" _Dr. Park!_ "

"Whatever!" Chanyeol waves over his shoulder and makes his way to the elevator.

Chanyeol doesn’t rush back to work, deciding to stop at the smoothie bar across the street from his aunt’s office first, realizing that, for once, he was exactly where he said he would be at the time. Lying comes so much easier to him now, lying is quicker. No one else questions him like Jongin does, probably because no one else sees through his rouses like Jongin. So he lies easier to everyone else, and tries lying to Jongin. Just tries. He knows Jongin rarely buys it.

He does give it some thought, telling Jongin about the therapy sessions he’s been taking with his aunt for the last few years, but they began before they were even together, and Chanyeol was in a much darker place then. These were his problems, and the last thing he wanted to do was give the impression that he blames his idiocy on Jongin. It’s not his fault he fell in love with a Grade A Jackass. His mental health should be the last thing weighing on Jongin’s shoulders; he can bare that cross on his own. Moreover, he knows very well that given the information, Jongin would take it as an invitation to worry himself to death about him. He’d wonder what he did wrong, if he did anything to further him in his own self-destructive way of living, when that couldn’t be farther from the truth. If anything, Jongin grounds him in ways no one else can. No one else cares for him the way Jongin does; unabashed, unquestioned, relentlessly. He’s so undeserving and yet Jongin takes pity upon him – pity he thinks had grown into something stronger, something he can’t easily break himself of.

_Love formed from pity and convenience…hmph._

He’ll take it. It’s more than he deserves, and he really can’t ask for more in good conscience.

________________________________________________________

The last few weeks have been too good for Jongin. He’s been tip-toeing around lately, waiting for things to sour just as quickly as they sweeten. Chanyeol was bound to stop acting like a decent boyfriend eventually, but these last few weeks have been…different. Jongin didn’t find himself particularly _missing_ Chanyeol’s attention the way he usually does. It was different, in the way that Chanyeol’s holding back even more from him, keeping their conversations notably minimal. He longs for the days Chanyeol would talk for hours about nothing and scold him for pretending not to listen. It’s different in the way he’s still slinking around their apartment, still _there,_ when these are usually the times he’s gone the most. Jongin’s so used to functioning without him around that they’ve begun to clash randomly over silly things, like space in the bathroom and who deserves control over the remote. He finds himself watching him sleep, afraid that as soon as he dozes off he’ll be gone. The surprise of finding him still in bed next to him in the morning, covers still undisturbed, baffles him to the point of annoyance. Of course fighting still turns into sex, which turns into silence, which somehow provokes them both until they’re fighting again; their usual never-ending routine is still apparent. But he’s _there_ , he’s home and Jongin doesn’t find that fact as comforting as he used to. He finds himself wondering what’s changed, why his absentee partner suddenly isn’t as absent – well, absent physically, that is.

"Hasn’t he always been gone mentally?"

"Shut up, Sehun."

"Why? That’s a valid question! See, this is why I don’t try to help you, you’re such a dick."

Jongin didn’t mean to kick Sehun as hard as he did – he didn’t, really! – but everything under the table is fair game, and Sehun’s shin was asking for it, anyway.

"Ow! Violence solves nothing, you neanderthal!"

Jongin grins at him from across the table, stealing a few fries off his plate. “ _You_ never solve anything, either.”

"But I’m a good listener, though," Sehun notes.

Kyungsoo sputters suddenly beside Jongin, finally letting go of the laugh he’d been holding in as he played spectator to the two’s banter.

"What?! I am a good listener!"

"You’ve been interrupting him all day," Kyungsoo says matter-of-factly as he pushes the last scraps of his salad around his plate.

"Yeah, you have," Jongin nods, turning more towards Kyungsoo.

"Whatever," Sehun scoffs, "what, so he’s a better listener because he just stares at people while they talk?" He points his chopsticks at Kyungsoo, his accusing glare only met by a small smile and wide eyes.

"Isn’t that, like…the definition of _listening_?"

Jongin laughs wholeheartedly at Sehun’s pout, slapping Kyungsoo’s arm repeatedly, unrestricted now, because Kyungsoo’s finally been around long enough to know that’s just the way he laughs. The first time it happened, Jongin’s wildly swinging limbs actually seemed to frighten him, and he stayed a safe distance away from him for a while.

They’d been working together for about a month now, and it was obvious Kyungsoo wasn’t exactly social. He barely spoke, and undoubtedly clung to Sunyoung more for survival and insight than genuine interest in the beginning. They seemed a lot friendlier now, workplace relationship flourishing off the clock, and they developed the routine of taking their lunch breaks together, along with Henry, Amber, and Joonmyun. The latter two have developed a new routine of their own over this last week, though, a habit of suddenly going missing around the same time and returning after lunch. As close as Sunyoung and Kyungsoo have gotten, it was obvious he was uncomfortable being a third wheel to Sunyoung & Henry’s already well-established friendship, so Sehun invited him to eat with him & Jongin one day. At first the duo becoming a trio worried Jongin, mostly because Kyungsoo kind of creeped him the hell out, unintentionally intimidating him with the multiple times he’s been caught staring at him. _“Maybe he just has the hots for you,”_ Amber suggested once, and Jongin’s hung on to that assumption ever since, contemplating how he could prove it. It made him think of when he first met Chanyeol, and how Sehun was the one to first point out how he was staring at him from the bar.

It gave him a strange jolt in confidence, being fawned over, and even though it wasn’t something he was unfamiliar with, he knew not to be arrogant about it. Nothing turned him off quicker than boastful confidence, and his ego wasn’t that big to begin with. Still, he liked to toy with it, throw a bit of flirtation out as bait and see what he could reel in. It was all in good fun, at first. Then he ended up with that useless lump of a boyfriend because of it, and now he just uses the interactions as source examples of his desirability.

"What do you think?" Jongin asks, turning completely so he’s facing Kyungsoo. Hand still on his shoulder, he squeezes lightly when the other just shrugs, silently calling for eye contact.

Kyungsoo takes the hint, eyes flickering between Jongin’s face and the hand now traveling down his arm. He honestly didn’t think anything. He kind of dismissed himself from the conversation as soon as Jongin said the word ‘boyfriend,’ ugh – just thinking the word makes him cringe. Plus, he was much more preoccupied with watching Jongin’s mouth move as he talked. _Did that give him the illusion that I was listening? Whoops._ “Uhh…well, I think…”

Jongin leans a little closer, slowing stroking his thumb over Kyungsoo’s arm. “You think…?” he asks huskily.

"I - I think…" he clears his throat, "I think you’re reminding me why I’m happily single," he says quickly, offering another smile. His eyes stay locked with Jongin’s long enough to watch the younger’s narrow and see his tongue dart across his plump bottom lip quickly before asking –

"Happily?"

The only evidence of it being a question was the way his eyebrow rose when Kyungsoo didn’t answer as quickly. "Yup," he says, letting his eyes wander down to Jongin’s mouth once more before snapping his attention back to his food. Jongin’s hand is still on his arm, though, and it only moves when Sehun erupts in an obnoxious fit of laughter.

"Geez, cut it out, Jongin, I think you’re freaking him out."

"No, it’s…it’s okay." Kyungsoo looks to Sehun as he takes his arm off the table, not trusting himself to look at Jongin again without adding to whatever lewd thoughts the boy was obviously trying to plant in his subconscious.

"Yeah, shut up, Sehun, it’s okay," Jongin says while patting Kyungsoo’s back lightly, smile evident in his teasing tone. He playfully bumps his shoulder to Kyungsoo’s and they laugh awkwardly together.

At the same time, Kyungsoo’s arm _innocently_ slips off his lap and onto Jongin’s knee under the table.

Jongin says nothing – he doesn’t react at all, in fact.

So Kyungsoo moves his hand up a bit.

Still nothing.

A slight brush of fingers on the inside of his thigh. Adventurous, he knows, yet it still doesn’t garner an evident response. Kyungsoo’s about to retract his hand when Jongin’s knee knocks into his gently.

Their eyes meet suspiciously, both looking out the corners of their eyes at the other. Jongin looks away first, smirking as he smoothly turns more forward and goes back to eating.

Kyungsoo smiles a little bigger than he wanted to, once again. _Shameless fucking flirt, that Kim Jongin…_

He likes it more than he wants to.


	5. Revelations of Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jongin realizes he's always been this angry, he's always this sad, and he's never actually been as in control as he always thought.
> 
> Meanwhile, Kyungsoo realizes he's actually a fucking idiot.

It was a simple request. _“Get my phone out of my car, will ya?”_ He was tired, he had been working the day away, he just wanted to take a hot shower and lay down. Jongin scoffed at the fact that Chanyeol yelled the command from the other room, opting out of greeting Jongin properly before dragging his feet into the bathroom and switching on the shower. Another indication he was truly out of it. _“Whatever,”_ Jongin replied, though he really wanted to tell him to fuck off and get it in the morning himself. After a few minutes of pondering and listening to the shower run he slipped his toes into his shoes and headed out the door.

It was sitting in the passenger seat, blinking obscenely in the pitch black surrounding it in the car. Jongin unlocked the driver’s side and leaned over to grab it, not caring enough to even open the messages waiting for him. Still, it made him grumble under his breath in annoyance. It seemed as if he had Chanyeol to himself for a good three weeks, but he can recalls clearly spotting the same string of emojis pop up on his phone from time to time in place of a name – they were still talking. He can’t figure out if that even means anything between wondering how long it’s better since they’ve seen each other and if he actually cares. His thumb absentmindedly hovers over the screen. Chanyeol doesn’t have a lock on his phone, he’s actually that big of an idiot, if you could believe that. Jongin could sit right there and scroll through the entirety of their taut little affair if he wanted…he doesn’t really want to. He rolls his eyes – _what do you care?_ – and slips the phone into his back pocket. He’s not sure what made him look twice at the backseat as he pushed himself up, but something told him things were out of place. Actually, the fact that things _aren’t_ out of place is what catches his eye. Chanyeol kept his car just as messy as his side of their bedroom, yet the backseat of his car was absent of any random contents of thrown bags or empty food containers. All that lay on the seats was a black sweater.

A black sweater that was way too small to belong to Chanyeol.

A black sweater that wasn’t his.

If Jongin was yelling, he had lost the sense to dictate the volume of his voice. If he looked angry, he had lost the ability to control his expressions. He didn’t want to throw a tantrum over this, he didn’t want to make a fuss about it, but his body sure did. It wasn't like him to react with volatility. Jongin was all calculated manipulation and chaste wit, but he was barreling up the stairs and back through the door before his brain had instructed his feet to move. He was all physical response without his usual logic.

“Where did you get that?” was all that came out of Chanyeol’s gapping mouth, eyes wide and arms still frozen above his head. Jongin had stormed into the bedroom, snatching the plug of the hair dryer Chanyeol was using right out of the electrical socket.

“Don’t answer my question with a question! Whose is this?!” His ears were burning, and so was his chest. He couldn’t believe how mad he had gotten so quickly, because in his mind this wasn’t that big of a deal, it only confirmed what he already knew. So why was he so furious?

Chanyeol just stood there, dryer still in hand, thankfully half dressed in a pair of Jongin’s pajama bottoms. Jongin wanted to rip them off and burn them now, but that’s an action for another time. If he did it now, it would undoubtedly derail the argument, and that was the last thing Jongin wanted to do. He wanted answers, he was tired of knowing it all and still nothing at all.

“Are you gonna answer me?” he asked, flinging the sweater onto the floor between them. “Whose is it?! Which one of your little sluts do you let leave their shit in your car, huh?!”

“Jongin, would you stop screaming at me?! Jesus! Just calm down!”

“FUCK YOU, I am calm!” He tugged at his shirt, trying to let some much-needed air onto his skin. He took a deep breath, slumping down on the bed and placing his head in his hands. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

“No, of course n –”

Jongin doesn’t think he’s ever slapped Chanyeol’s hand away so quickly. He’s visibly fuming, madder than he can remember himself being in a long time, and Chanyeol’s still trying to handle the situation just the same as when he’s playfully teasing him. No, this was different. This was not the same. This wasn’t something they were going to scream at each other about for two minutes and then diffuse physically. Jongin was pissed, he didn’t want to be touched at all, for the first time in a long time.

“I don’t, baby, I swear. I –”

“Don’t lie to me! Of course you think I’m stupid, even I think I’m stupid! What, is that how you’ve been seeing him? Sneaking off in the middle of the night and fucking in the backseat of your car like a couple kids?! Is that what you’ve been doing?! You’re fucking pathetic, do you know that?! But, hah, I guess I can’t talk, huh? I’m just as pathetic – _fuck!_ – I knew, I fucking knew! I knew this entire time and I didn’t do anything! Didn’t say anything! God, I am so fucking stupid! I am the stupidest fucking –”

“Jongin, slow down, just –” he reaches for his shoulder again and Jongin shoots up like a rocket, into his face, and Chanyeol has to step back to avoid their foreheads colliding.

“ _Don’t_ …touch me. God, Chanyeol, for once, just fucking _once_ …can you tell me the fucking truth?”

Jongin’s anger is visibly moving him to distress. This is exactly what Chanyeol was afraid of: trying to come up with the words to say to him. What could he say? Nothing he wanted to say sounded right in his head, he knew it’d taste even worse escaping his lips. What could he say to even begin to explain himself? _It meant nothing._ Lie. _I don’t feel the same way about him that I do about you._ For the most part, that’s a lie, too. He still had no idea how he ultimately felt. _But I love you._ Excuse. Not a lie, but still not good enough. _Please don’t leave…_ fuck, he really was pathetic.

“Are you going to say anything at all?” Jongin asks quietly. Brokenly, but still just as angrily. He sounds so worn, so depleted, and Chanyeol can’t blame him. He’s completely drained himself in the course of minutes, a sudden break in his carefree façade with his bones and heart exposed; Chanyeol couldn’t pretend he wasn’t hurting anyone but himself anymore.

He never wanted to see Jongin like this, see him hurt, yet everything he’s done to cause him pain is replaying in his head, past indiscretions and foolish reasoning now mocking him. His head was spinning, he felt nauseous, but he knew what he felt could not compare to the Hell burning behind Jongin’s eyes. He closed his own and dropped his head, unable to lift his chin and look at the boy as the words dripped from his mouth, sour bile bubbling up from his twisted insides. “I…I’m sorry…”

Silence follows, but he knows lifting his face to look at Jongin’s would be too much to bear. The seconds ticking by felt like eternities, the weight of galaxies dawning his shoulders as he listened to Jongin’s heavy breathing even out into short puffs of air. More silence.

He doesn’t feel the slap across his face at first, only hears it echo off the wall as his head is forced to turn. The intense burn of stunned and dying skin cells against his cheek confirms it in his mind. His eyes pop open as he turns his head back, looking down at Jongin’s bare feet instead of picking up his head.

“You…you’re _sorry_?” The words stung his throat, anger ripping away the unfeigned tone of them as he repeated them. “You’re sorry?!” Jongin feels slightly validated by the visible flinch his exclamation causes. His hand raises again, striking Chanyeol in the face again before he can stop it. “You’re fucking sorry?!” he repeats in disbelief. He can’t remember the last time he even heard Chanyeol apologize to him sincerely, or apologize at all, without sarcasm or mockery, without complete disregard for his feelings. _This_ was what it took for him to be a decent boyfriend? A decent person? To be caught red-handed, presented with evidence of his actions, to finally be made accountable. _This_ is what they needed to work, Jongin thinks: to be at each other’s throats. Constantly. To be angry and spiteful and downright horrible to each other – he was tired. He was so, so fucking tired of it. Of him. He’s never wanted to be farther away from him.

Yet he sees his hands outstretched again, clawing at Chanyeol’s still damp chest before pushing him, hard. He hits him again, and again and again, and the fact that Chanyeol never once dares to shield himself, never makes a move to stop him, pisses him off even more. He hears himself repeat it over & over – _“you’re sorry?!”_ – until it’s no longer a question. The marks that paint across Chanyeol’s torso dance in front of his shifty eyes, taunt him, antagonize him until he feels his fists ball up. He wants to cover them with violent scars, to forget the ones underneath were left under a guise of love. He closes his eyes and just lets his body react, removes the image of a body he’s associated with affection and acts honestly on his emotions for the first time in a long time. He can’t hear anything but his own cracking voice yelling every swear and insult he can think of, his hands lashing at what he knew was now-crimson skin.

He’s completely spent of energy when he finally stops, eyes blurry with what he hoped was fatigue, but knew were tears. He realized he was on sitting on the side of their bed, hands stinging and shaking in his lap. Chanyeol is slumped against the wall in front of him, a cautious hand rubbing over his ribs. Jongin doesn’t want to look at him, but he does; he can’t help but look up when he emits that infantile whine as he began moving. He takes in the new bruises and scratches to Chanyeol’s body, indistinguishable from the former love bites and hickeys. His bottom lip is split.

He’s still angry – so fucking angry – and he hates himself for immediately thinking of comforting Chanyeol when he sees just how much damage he’s done. He’s so used to molding himself around him lovingly after inflicting pain on him, and he has to fling himself back on the bed to stop himself from reaching out and inviting him into his arms. _Fuck, fuck, fuck! What the fuck is wrong with me?_ He thrashes against the sheets, sick with the anger boiling in his blood once again. This wasn’t him. He wasn’t a vengeful person, yet the only emotion he could feel right now was rage, and more tears streaming from his eyes. He just wants it all to stop. He doesn’t want to feel anything this intensely again.

Chanyeol makes his way towards the bed slowly, dazed by the strange mixture of pain and atonement in his body. He deserved that, all of it. He could care less of his own anguish, he never really had the capacity to, and all that mattered was that Jongin finally let out the animosity he knew was lying under all that affection. He wants to pull Jongin into his chest, stop him from sobbing, but he knows that’s not a wise decision. He’s careful not to touch Jongin as he sits down on his side of the bed, biting the inside of his cheek to mask his wincing. _Fuck, moving is going to be a real bitch._ If he wasn’t breathing easily he’d think his sternum was cracked in half. He sucks his lip onto his mouth, tongue running over the gash and cleaning away any blood. His jaw aches. He thinks of how lucky he is that Jongin didn’t take that second shot to his face with his more dominant hand. He feels the weight on the bed shift behind him and isn’t surprised by the hard punch to his back he receives before Jongin gets up and stomps into the bathroom.

He could swear he hears Jongin mumble “I fucking hate you” right before the door slams and locks, and any other time he’d playfully shout “I love you, too” in retaliation. Tonight, he feels inclined to agree.

_Get in line, babe. I hate me, too._

________________________________________________________

“Thank God it’s Friday,” Sehun sighed, slumping against his register, “after I clock out tonight I don’t want to see another teenaged girl for a full 48 hours.”

“I don’t even have that luxury, I’m not off this weekend,” Minho scoffed, turning back to the sales rack he was trying to sort out.

“Nobody was talking to you, killjoy.” Sehun caught the stray hanger Minho chucks at him and sticks his tongue out childishly. “I swear, I was feeling pretty hetero this week, but prom season is completely murdering my taste for women. All I want out of this weekend is both of my holes jammed full of di –”

“SEHUN, oh my God,” Henry shrieked, covering his ears, “that is way too much information!”

“Yeah, dude, nobody wants to hear about what you’re gonna be doing with your holes this weekend or any other weekend,” Minho adds while tossing another hanger at him, purposely missing the bin next to his register.

Kyungsoo chuckled to himself, overhearing the conversation from the other side of the counter where he was refolding the disheveled stacks of obnoxious pop culture screen tees. He peaks across the pile at Jongin, curious to see if he found the chatter of their coworkers as amusing as he did. His eyes were down as he tentatively folded the t-shirt in his hands, still looking uncommonly pale and lifeless. He’d been so out of it today, but everyone else seemed to be used to this occasional mood from him. Amber warned him to be cautious of the somber boy when he came in this morning, saying Joonmyun heard him talking about a fight he had with his boyfriend last night. _“Don’t mind the dramatics,”_ she whispered, reassuring him that he’d be his cheery self in no time, that he and his boyfriend are constantly this dysfunctional.

The information didn’t make Kyungsoo any less sympathetic. How could he just pretend seeing Jongin so down didn’t upset him? The rest of them may be used to his love roller coaster, but seeing it in action made Kyungsoo vicariously sick to his stomach. “Soooo,” he started softly, shaking the table a bit to get Jongin’s attention, “you got anything planned for this weekend?”

The boy looks up, but noticeably avoids making eye contact. He shrugs. “No, not really.”

“Oh. I just thought I’d ask since it sounds like Sehun’s gonna be…pretty busy,” he laughs, trying to lighten the mood. It seems to work, Jongin’s shoulders aren’t as tensed anymore. “Don’t you two ever go clubbing or anything?”

“Kinda, yeah. We used to go out a lot in college…”

Kyungsoo nods, remembering the stories they’ve told him about them both studying dance, Sehun’s forte being contemporary while Jongin’s was ballet. He spaces out a bit, imagining Jongin in one of those tight, flesh-toned ballet leotards…but tunes back in when he realizes Jongin’s lips are still moving. _Focus, dumbass!_ This is possibly the most Jongin has spoken all day and he missed half of it.

“…terrible driver, plus they’d always end up ditching me to fool around, so we stopped going out as often,” he finishes with a little pout. “I do kinda miss it, though…”

_Well, that sounds like an invitation…_

“Are you doing anything this weekend?” He was making eye contact with Kyungsoo now, eyes bright and contrasting greatly with the bags under his eyes.

“Not really, no…well, I don’t have anything planned…”

He smiles, wide, but visibly tries to soften it. “Well…sounds like we’re both free.”

Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow. Okay, so that _was_ an invitation. And so was _this._ It had to be. Kyungsoo knew an invitation when he heard it. “Yeah…sounds like it…”

Jongin seems to perk up even more, resting his chin on the stack of shirts and batting his eyelashes. Every bit of his face was screaming _ask me, ask me, come on, take the bait, ask me…_

Kyungsoo thinks of the young boy he watched completely miss his female friend’s hint when she asked his opinion on the dress in her hands (“this is dumb, I mean…it’s not like anyone’s gonna ask me anyway…a-are you going? To prom, I mean?”).

He was a lot smarter than that kid for sure. He can read verbal queues a lot better than a teenager, and can expertly recognize when someone’s baiting him. So he bites. “Well, I bartend at this night club downtown a lot…it’s always packed on Fridays, plenty of people around to help you forget about your boyfriend troubles –” He stops there, unsure of whether or not he was even supposed to know about that, let alone give it advice in solving it. If anything, he had more helpful advice on ruining relationships, which admittedly isn’t a bad thing in his eyes. Jongin’s relationship sounded good and ruined as it is, anyway.

Jongin seems to notice how his eyes bugged immediately and scrunches his face cutely, “you know…any other time I’d probably say that was a bad idea…”

Kyungsoo leans forward and mirrors Jongin’s stance, placing his chin on a shorter stack of t-shirts and cocks his head to the side. “Some of the best ideas are usually a little bad…”

Jongin’s head swings to the opposite side. “Just a little bad?”

He’s sure his expression goes a bit menacing, but it seems to entice the younger boy. “Just a little.”

“Hmm,” Jongin looks off to the side, tapping his temple with his index finger as if he was thinking intensely, “I think I can be a little bad…”

_Oh, I bet you can…_

________________________________________________________

Chanyeol’s morning was peaceful. Uncomfortably peaceful. He didn’t get much sleep, too terrified of waking up to find himself alone. He was absolutely exhausted, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of Jongin. Most of his night was spent waiting for Jongin on the bed, listening to him fumble around the kitchen and curse randomly. He recorded the number of times he heard his coffee mug gently hit the glass dining table.

He was thankful when the lights in the kitchen flickered off and Jongin emerged from the darkness, standing in the doorway. He was hesitant, but eventually entered the room and stripped off his clothes, climbing into bed without a single word. He turned over after a few minutes, facing Chanyeol, but hiding most of his face behind the covers. His eyes were piercing, still burning red and cloudy. He couldn’t look away. He wouldn’t allow himself the luxury of ignoring this. He’d hurt Jongin so much and was never strong enough to admit it on his own, it was time he forced himself to. They stared at each other for what seemed like all night. At one point Chanyeol remembers closing his eyes, trying to hold back the tears he knew he had no right to release. He felt Jongin move, slowly, and felt the warmth of his hand on his cheek. As quickly as he felt the hand it was gone again, and when he opened his eyes Jongin’s were shut tight as he mumbled something under his breath. He cried more, stutteringly sucking air in through his nose, like he was trying his best to be quiet, and slowly drifted off after that.

In his sleep, Jongin unknowingly nuzzled into his chest, hooked his leg around Chanyeol’s and gripped his arm. As much as he wanted him there, Chanyeol knew he’d be angry with himself for it in the morning. He reluctantly untangled their limbs, placing a pillow between them when Jongin stirred and reached for him again.

It was just his luck that he had an early shift today. He could swear he had just closed his eyes when his alarm clock began blaring. He groaned, slapping his hand against the bedside table hoping to find his phone without having to lift his head from the pillow. Suddenly the melodic tones halted, an artificial swiping sound indicating the alarm being turned off manually, and Chanyeol opens one of his eyes to see Jongin leaning against the doorframe. It shocks him into an upright position, much to his aching body’s dismay.

“Come eat.”

Chanyeol wishes the breakfast would have been as silent as last night. He would have enjoyed it more if Jongin would have just stabbed him with the fork he was eating with.

The conversation was short and impersonal, despite the topic. Jongin was acting more like an investigator than a scorned lover. He never reacted to Chanyeol’s answers, just delivered one question after the other with a nod or two in-between, maintaining a neutral expression. _“How long?” “How many times?” “Has he ever been here? In our bed?” “When’s the last time you saw him?”-_

The question of who _he_ is was addressed as soon as they sat down. _“I don’t give a fuck who it was, okay? Forget I even asked…I don’t care, it doesn’t matter, so don’t tell me.”_ He does as he’s told and withholds the information. He’s right – it doesn’t matter. If it hadn’t been D.O, it would have undoubtedly been someone else. He doesn’t want to bother Jongin with who it was, because it’d just give more opportunity for the blame to be placed on someone else. Chanyeol was through with that. It was his choice to fuck up his relationship, he deserved the blame.

He nearly falls asleep while brushing his teeth, waking himself up with a jolt of pain when he jabs his sore cheek with his toothbrush. He looks in the mirror, the damage to his face thankfully minimal compared to the rest of his body. Besides the busted lip and the light bruise on the left side of his face, he doesn’t look as bad as he feels. Nowhere near, actually. He hears Jongin climb back into bed as he finishes washing his face, sneaking a peak at his reflection. He’s sitting against the headboard, typing feverishly on his phone, scowling.

It scares him when Jongin tells him to have a good day as he’s leaving. Something about his tone makes Chanyeol think about checking his engine for missing parts.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have eaten the food he made this morning…it could have been poisoned.”

He looks up at Minseok, who’s perched in the kitchen window in front of him. He expects to see him giggling at his own joke, but he actually looks genuinely concerned. Fuck, he wasn’t joking.

“Jongin wouldn’t do that!”

“Are you sure?” Minseok asks, pressing the back of his hand to Chanyeol’s forehead. “Have you been nauseous or dizzy at all today?”

“Yeah, but he did kinda punch me the fucking gut last night and –” he flails, knocking Minseok’s maternal hands away as they patted various parts of his face, “hey! Cut it out! I’m fine!”

He wasn’t. He wasn’t fine. But the last thing he wanted was to be checked for signs of arsenic poisoning while he was prepping food. It was bad enough his manager asked him if he’d been mugged last night and stuck him in the kitchen for the day.

It wasn’t all that bad. He liked the cook, Baekhyun, though he was a bit annoying and constantly made sexual remarks about Jongin. He had the common decency to back off today, though. It’s not exactly wise to talk about wanting someone’s boyfriend to plow them with their “sexy hunk of dark meat” while so many sharp knives were in arms-reach. And he definitely heard him relying the story of his fat lip to Yifan, so it was clear Jongin talk was off limits today.

Plus, chopping vegetables was somehow therapeutic to him. He needed this time away from interacting with customers, a day without projecting his personal endeavors to the public. He wishes he was a better cook and could help out with more than just general prep, but he could deal with the minuscule task of slicing & dicing produce. Every stroke of the knife calculated and measured by memory and how badly you want to keep the fingertip you’re using to hold each piece down…he thought about purposing missing a few times. He remembers how Jongin would comfort him when he was hurt, how remorseful he seemed when he’d take their fits of controlled violence a bit too far…how good the second of warmth his hand provided against his aching jaw felt last night. Maybe if he chopped his hand off in some bizarre accident Jongin would forget all about his cheating and cater to him that way again.

 _Wow, that sounded more morbidly manipulative than I wanted it to._ He shakes the disturbing thought away, applying the small amount of force required to sink the knife into the bell pepper on the cutting board. _Gonna have a lot to talk about with Aunt Hyojin this week…_

He freezes, shell-shocked by the realization that Monday will be so full of smug _I told you so_ ’s that he may explode from the embarrassment. She told him this would happen, that if Jongin was as invasive and clever as he described that he’d kick his ass when he finally found out for sure. She’s gonna step off her professional pedestal just long enough to rub this shit in his face, probably poke at his injuries and tell him how much he deserved every one of them, too. God, he really hates how alike he & his aunt are sometimes, so unapologetically condescending. She was gonna have a good, hearty laughing fit about this, and he’s just gonna have to sit there and take it…

Cutting off his hand for sympathy points doesn’t sound as disturbing anymore.

________________________________________________________

Jongin hasn’t been this nervous in a long time. He had forgotten this feeling, the tingling of butterflies, the lightheadedness; he feels so silly for being this worked up.

This wasn’t even a date. They weren’t having a candlelit dinner at some fancy restaurant or packing into a theater to see the latest romantic comedy. They were just going to some random night club, a club projected to be filled with tons of attractive people. Kyungsoo invited him out because he wanted to, but in the back of his mind he still thinks it might have been pity. He can’t deny the fact that he looked like a raincloud had been hovering over his head all day, but he wasn’t expecting anyone to take that much notice. He certainly didn’t expect anyone to ask him out on a -

“Not a date. This is _not_ a date,” he repeats to his reflection when he catches himself fussing over his clothes again. “You look fine, stop it.” He does look fine, damn fine if he’s completely honest with himself, but he’s still so nervous.

His eyes wander to his bookcase, remembering the tiny bag of _Chill Pills_ he had stashed in a hollow medical dictionary, given to him as a birthday present. He originally thought it was a gag gift, until he found himself naked in a stranger’s hot tub with Sehun, coming down from a high that could have knocked out a horse.

_“Where the fuck did you even get Ecstasy?”_

_“Some hot ass stripper at a gay bar, duh. Where else would I get Ecstasy?”_

“Nope. Nuh uh. Don’t even think about it, Jongin,” he says quietly, scolding himself for even considering it. Sehun had already inserted himself into this night when he asked where they were planning on going and said he’d meet them there. He was not gonna make the same mistake twice and end up ruining things with Kyungsoo before they even…

…where was this even going?

Jongin may hate him with every fiber of his being right now, but he did still have a boyfriend. A boyfriend he knows is cheating on him – was cheating on him? Whatever. A boyfriend he kind of, sort of loved – _loves–_ a lot. Maybe.

But love didn’t keep Chanyeol from cheating…so why should he allow it to stop him?

He had already decided last night while drinking his coffee that was going to cheat on Chanyeol. It was only fair. An eye for an eye, right? He’d been fighting idiocy with affection for so long, it was time he stopped pretending like that method was effective. Chanyeol only understood tit-for-tat, so that’s what he’d give him. He’d only thought that far into his plan, though. He hadn’t decided who it was going to be with or when or where. That is, until he got to work that morning.

Making out with Sehun in the stockroom was fun, but didn’t make him feel any better. Joonmyun walking in on them halted his chances of finding out if fucking him would do a better job of evening the score in his mind. It’s not like either of them thought much of it, he and Sehun had been having casual sex since high school, mostly out of pure boredom, and it always stopped out of respect for exclusive relationships. Chanyeol knew about all that, though, so it wouldn’t be a shock to find out Sehun was the first person he fell into (desk chair?) bed with.

Henry would be his second choice, but he was involved with someone at the moment. Jongin’s no home wrecker.

Minho’s a prude and would insist on wining and dining him for a few days before they even got to a bedroom. Yawn.

And then perfection made itself known with a comforting hand on his back and a soft voice asking him if he was feeling alright. He had to hold himself back from smiling as he answered, _“I’m okay, Kyungsoo, really…”_

He felt well enough to raise his expression into something happier then, but Kyungsoo seemed so easily swayed by sad eyes and pathetic little sighs. He kept up the kicked puppy act long enough for him to finally set the (not a) date. He really didn’t care what they ended up planning to do – if Jongin played his cards right, they wouldn’t even be leaving the apartment.

Knowing they’d be subsequently ditching Sehun was just icing on the cake. Serves him right for all the times he left Jongin to find his own way back to home in the past.

Jongin jumps when he suddenly hears someone knocking on the door, nearly dropping his eyeliner pencil down the drain. “Hold on, I’ll be right there!!”

On the other side of the door, Kyungsoo is just as nervous, albeit not for the same reason.

He’s about to break another one of his promises to himself, he can feel it. A steady stream of workplace flings-gone-bad are replaying in his head, reminding him over and over why this wasn’t a good idea at all. But he and Jongin hadn’t exchanged anything but a few glances and little touches, this was barely a fling, and this was no guarantee that it would become one. He’d assured Jongin he’d have a good chance of finding someone to help him get over his relationship drama, only slightly implying that he wanted to be that someone. It’s not like this was a date, or anything, he’s sure Jongin knew he was free to have his pick of the litter without the pressure of being tied down. Besides, he wasn’t even sure if Jongin was looking to get laid tonight. That being said, if he was, he should probably make it clear he’s available. I mean, what are friends for? And they weren’t even _at_ work. This didn’t count as a workplace fling. They were just two friends who work together, hanging out off-the-clock, nowhere near the workplace. Totally doesn’t count…right?

 _No **coworker** flings, then, smartass,_ he hears his conscious tell him as he shuffles the contents of his pocket. No need to try and justify what’s not even gonna happen. _In fact, don’t even worry about it. You two are nowhere near a fling. You’re not gonna break your promise, calm down. You’ve got nothing to worry abo-_

As soon as the door swings open Kyungsoo realizes he _does_ something to worry about…holy shit.

“Sorry about that, my hair will just not cooperate today,” Jongin laughs, combing his hand through his hair.

Kyungsoo watches his bangs spring back to life, bleached locks bouncing into the unkempt mess atop his head, and wonders what the hell he’s talking about, because the disheveled look works extremely well on him. His eyes drift to the slinky black tank top hanging loosely on his torso, perfectly exposing his collarbones and a bit of his chest, sheer enough to only slightly display his nipples. Jongin speaks again before he can form coherent thoughts about how well those dark jeans hugged those beautifully sculpted thi – _oh, fuck, did he ask me something?_ “I’m sorry, what?”

“I said ‘hey, you look great, wanna come in?’ ” he reprises, smiling smugly.

“Oh! Yeah…thanks,” he scratches the back of his neck, hiding his flustered face by looking down as he walks past Jongin and into the apartment. He hears the door click shut and lock behind him, stopping where the short hallway widens out into the living room, glancing towards the brightly lit kitchen and dining area to his left. “Nice place.”

“Thanks,” Jongin responds, disappearing into the second door to his right, brushing passed closely enough for Kyungsoo to notice, “I’ll just be a minute.”

“Take your time,” he says, striding further into the living room and plopping comfortably onto the couch. He lets his eyes wander around the room, recognizing the similarities to the apartment he shares with Jongdae, although in a smaller scale. He notices a couple trench coats hanging from the wall hook that look way too big for Jongin, though. And the sickeningly cute pair of blue teddy bears sitting on a shelf above the television, both holding on to the same giant red heart. The dirty matching pairs of Jordans in the corner behind the front door, one pair noticeably bigger than the other…oh shit. There’s an empty hook on the key ring holder next to the door. _Holy shit, he lives with his boyfriend. He lives **here** with his boyfriend. Oh…oh my God. Oh my G –_

“Kyungsoo?”

He hears Jongin call him, but it still takes him a few seconds to react, turning quickly towards his voice. “Yeah?”

“This is gonna sound so stupid, but,” he leans his shoulder against the bedroom door, leaning forward a bit. “I haven’t done this in so long…I feel like I don’t even remember how to pick up strangers.”

Kyungsoo laughs shortly, throwing his arm over the back of the couch. “First of all, you gotta stop talking like some 40 year old virgin. You’re not ‘picking up strangers,’ you’re just trying to hook up.”

“Okay, well, I don’t remember how to do that, I haven’t hooked up in…” he bit his lip, wondering if that blabbermouth Joonmyun told him ALL of what he heard him & Sehun doing this morning. He decides to rephrase, just in case. “I’ve never hooked up with someone I didn’t already know.”

“Really? Never?” The concept almost seems foreign to him. Jongin really was living by the direction of a different moral compass than him.

“Nope.”

“Well, you _obviously_ know how to flirt, so you’re already halfway there.”

“What do you mean, obviously?” Jongin asks, trying his best to look offended. “Are you calling me a tease?”

 _Fuck yes!_ “No, no! I didn’t mean it like that,” he says hurriedly, waving his hands, “I just meant you’re really… _friendly_.”

“Friendly, huh?” Jongin smiles. “So I just have to be my normal, really friendly self, then?” he asks, walking over to the couch and sitting down next to Kyungsoo. A safe distance away, until he shifts to lean back on his arm, their hips now adjacent and knees brushing together a little. “That’s half of it. What’s the other half?”

“Well…with some people you can give subtle hints, like, ‘we should get outta here,’ ‘let’s go somewhere more private,’ stuff like that. But trust me, some people are stupid. Literally dense as fuck. Sometimes you just have to be bold and –”

“Bold?” Jongin interrupts, slowly licking over his bottom lip as Kyungsoo nods. “Bold like how?”

“Let me put it this way: I once flirted with a guy all night, but almost had to jack him off on the dance floor for him to realize I wanted to hook up.”

“Oh, wow…that is bold.”

“Yeah. I don’t think you’re gonna have to do that, though. I mean, you’re probably gonna have people grabbing at you left and right.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you’re hot…hot people don’t usually have to be bold.”

“Oh,” Jongin coos innocently, as if he wasn’t aware he’s attractive, like it was news to him that Kyungsoo finds him attractive. He sits up, moving closer before asking, “what if I want to be?”

Kyungsoo opens his mouth to respond, but Jongin continues.

“You said I don’t have to be, but what if I want to be bold? What if I find myself so attracted to someone that I can’t help but throw myself at them? What if I can’t help but look them square in the eye and tell them…”

Kyungsoo’s heart jumps into his throat, thumping away as he feels Jongin’s fingers gently tracing over his collar. He shamelessly takes a huge whiff of Jongin’s cologne now that he’s moved close enough, finding it comforting and warm, familiar in a way he can’t describe. He wants to bathe it, whatever it was, but not more than he wanted Jongin to finish this freaking sentence, _ugh, why are you so damn dramatic? Just say it._

“…I want to fuck you.”

That _wasn’t_ a question. It didn’t sound anything like a question, yet Kyungsoo’s dumb mouth still tries to make words. “Uhhhhh…” _Smooooth._ He tries again, “well…if that’s what you want to do…by all means, be bold.” Their faces are too close to tell for sure, but he could swear Jongin actually nods at that, _fucking bastard._

“How bold?” he whispers. Whispers, because there’s barely any space between them anymore, so close he’s practically sucking the air right out of Kyungsoo’s mouth. “Like, is there a limit? Can I say any bold thing I can think of?”

Bold obviously a more hyperbolic meaning in Jongin’s vocabulary, because the way his eyes narrowed as he said it suggests that mind can think up some pretty _bold_ things. “I guess…I mean, a lot of people like bold come-ons.”

“Hmmm, so do you like bold come-ons, Kyungsoo?” he scoots back, but only to tuck his leg under and turn his body fully, knee now nudged in Kyungsoo’s thigh, in a way he can only assume is a silent way of urging him to face him as well.

He clears his throat, moving a bit to side. “Yeah…I-I mean, I’m definitely not opposed to them, not at all, so I guess…I do, yeah.” _What the fuck?_ Kyungsoo doesn’t stutter, ever. But then again, he’s supposedly never nervous about anything like this, ever, and all he can think to describe this knot in his gut is nervousness. What the hell is happening to him?

“So, since you do…you wouldn’t be opposed to me saying something like…”

Jongin's fingers are back, walking playfully up his arm before suddenly circling around his arm and yanking him forward, the cold silver of the ring on his middle finger shocking his skin.

"I really want you to pin me to this couch and shove your dick down my throat."

 _Not a question…definitely **not** a question. _ Kyungsoo clears his throat, trying to breathe properly while so close he can nearly smell the arousal seeping out of every pore in Jongin’s skin. Damn this boy, so annoyingly coy and conceited, practically waving himself in front of Kyungsoo’s starved expression like fresh meat. He isn’t the least bit unaware of what he’s doing.

Kyungsoo smirks, trying his best to keep his composure. “You know, Jongin…if I wasn’t such a humble person, I’d think you were coming on to me right now.” Jongin’s eyes fall immediately, crawling slowly over the acute angle he’s forced Kyungsoo’s body into and back up to his face, appearance now conveying such innocence Kyungsoo moves back just a bit to make sure he’s still looking at the same person.

"Well then, I guess it’s a shame you’re so humble.”

He isn’t sure whether he or Jongin moved first, no idea who was the first to slot their lips together, but he was forced back on his back before he even realized it was happening, submitting to the pressure of Jongin’s body. Kyungsoo doesn’t let kiss doesn’t last long, the minimal contact deemed unneeded by his rapidly reacting nerves. Kissing was foreplay, they didn’t need that right now at all. This whole conversation was foreplay and he’s surprised he withstood its entirety without erupting. Jongin seems to take the hint, moving on to nip and suck at Kyungsoo’s neck as his hands traveled up and down his sides, rumpling his shirt around his ribs. The way the boy groans when he grabs both cheeks of his ass and squeezes tight is absolute music to his ears. Kyungsoo wishes he’d taken all those opportunities he had to do it sooner, but it probably would have been frowned upon in workplace, even if he was given the invitation. _Fuck it – that rule was stupid of him to even try to uphold, fuck respecting the workplace._ Jongin grinds down into him a few times before gripping his thighs and easily maneuvering him into his lap, and even though he can feel Jongin trying to sit up he keeps his arms locked around his neck. He can’t help it, everything about Jongin feels new and familiar all at the same time. He can’t resist the urge to immerse himself in his touch, his scent – it’s driving him crazy that he can’t exactly place what’s so comforting about it, but it feels so good, so fucking good and he doesn’t think he wants smell anything else for the rest of his life. Jongin does finally get him to release his neck, laughing as Kyungsoo’s hands just push under his shirt and begin caressing his torso, only leaving his body for a second.

“Would you consider this too bold, or is this still okay by your standards?” he asks playfully, bunching his shirt around his armpits to return the simulation.

“This is so much more than okay by my standards,” he replies, moaning as Jongin dips his head down to flick his tongue across his chest, sucking at one nipple while tweaking the other between his index finger and thumb. He closes his eyes, burying his hands in Jongin’s hair and concentrates on not pushing his head down too soon. As eager as he is, he doesn’t want to move too fast. Jongin’s tapping on his arm, telling him to sit up so he can get his shirt off. He lifts his arms, letting Jongin rid him of the garment, but he accidentally hits the lamp on the table next to the couch when gets it completely off. The lamp doesn’t fall, but it does teeter a bit, knocking a remote, some change, and a picture frame onto the floor.

“Whoops,” Jongin glances down at the floor for a second, then shrugs. “Belongs in the trash, really~” He giggles.

He immediately goes back to kissing down the other side of his neck, so Kyungsoo figures whatever fell wasn’t broken or wasn’t terribly important, so he doesn’t bother asking Jongin what that was supposed to mean. He’s glad the picture frame didn't shatter though, nothing’s a bigger mood killer than broken glass (don’t ask how he knows that, it’s not a pretty story). His head rolls to the side as Jongin works his way back down, thankfully moving a lot quicker towards the button of his jeans. His eyes wander to the floor for whatever reason, he doesn’t really know why, and there laid on the up-turned picture frame. If he was completely honest with himself, he’d admit he was pretty curious as to what Jongin’s boyfriend looked like, so he turns his head more and looks at bit closer.. It didn’t really matter if he was more attractive (context clues already told him the dude was a lot bigger than him), because he was obviously a big fat idiot for upsetting someone as great as Jongin to the point where he would wanna cheat on him. Jongin looks inhumanely gorgeous as usual even though it’s just his smiling profile, that beautiful grin dawning his face as he shyly leans against the broad shoulder of –

 _Oh._ It doesn't register to him fully when he sees the face, mostly because Jongin's rolling his hips up against his ass, popping the button of his pants open, and his eyelids flutter a bit. He focuses on the face again, or tries to, at least, but then Jongin –

 _Oh, shit._ Jongin's tongue drags across both his hipbones, then back again. The second pass stops right below his navel as Jongin slips his jeans off his hips a little and,  _holy fuck,_ he can't think of anything else he'd rather feel than that tongue against more parts of his groin. He sits up on his elbows, looking down at the top of Jongin's head between his thighs, leaving glistening trails of saliva across the waistband of his underwear and just as he's rolling his tongue down to bulge in his underwear –

Kyungsoo remembers where he's seen that face...it's been in this same position before, smiling brightly up at him from between his legs... _OH SHIT!_

“Are you **_fucking_**  kidding me?”

“What?” Jongin asks, looking up from between Kyungsoo’s thighs.

 _Fuck, I said that out loud, didn’t I?_ Yes, he did, and it doesn't help that Jongin immediately slides up his body, cups the side of his face gently with that same innocent look in his eyes. A look he remembers seeing once before, just once, flash against the screen of that big fat idiot's phone one night as he laid limp on the couch with that bright smile beaming down on him. God, he wants to smack himself in the face, how could he not have realized? Jongin doesn't even look THAT different with dark hair,  _omg, I'm a fucking moron_  - was his mind purposefully blocking it out or –

“What’s wrong, Kyungsoo?”

_This! This is wrong. This is so wrong. Everything about this is so fucking wrong. Oh my God, this is just my goddamn luck!  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt so silly trying to describe [this picture](https://38.media.tumblr.com/806a883fcca9e10ef0ba02ffe9a3abc1/tumblr_n80w5uP7Kf1qzlma3o1_400.jpg), lol.


	6. Mixed Signals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No part of Chanyeol's body is as bruised as his ego, but it still hurts like hell to move in this direction.
> 
> Kyungsoo and Jongin spend some time off the couch.

_Just give it to him and leave. You told Jongin it’s done, so it’s done. Just give him the dumb sweater back and tell him it’s over. Simple._

Not that simple. Chanyeol knew it wouldn’t be that simple no matter how much he told himself it would be. He curses under his breath as he hits his head against the steering wheel of his car a few times, mentally scolding himself for talking about D.O like they were a couple again. They weren’t. They were a fling that got out of hand, an affair Chanyeol spent way too much time investing in. They were never meant to become friends, if that’s what they were. He wanted to pretend cutting D.O out of his life wouldn’t be difficult, but he knew it would, no matter how badly it needed to be done. And it really needs to be done. He needs to end this. The déjà vu has gotten too prominent – this is exactly how things began with Jongin. The memories keep creeping into his brain and jumbling together, ready to invade his mind and cloud his subconscious whenever he’s contemplating what he should do. It’s getting harder to determine if his feelings for D.O are genuine, or just lingering nostalgia. Flashbacks of the passion, the urgency, the exhibitionism, the suffocating rush and heat all blended together in his mind and he wishes the memories didn’t blur so easily. He wishes their faces didn’t swap in his mind so often. He really, really does.

He straightens his back, unconsciously checks his hair in the rear view mirror. He reminds himself of the biggest difference between his two relationships as he takes a deep breath and exits the car.

Jongin loves him. Actually, factually loves him. Jongin knows almost everything about him. Jongin cares about him, cares for him even when it’s the last thing he wants to do. Jongin fights with him, tolerates him, cradles him with a fondness no one’s ever shown him.

D.O…well…doesn’t. No matter how into Chanyeol he seems to be. He’s made that painfully obvious at times sex wasn’t the focus of the conversation. D.O barely knows anything about him, doesn't care to know more, and has no tolerance for him. D.O only accommodates him for as long as they’re getting each other off. He treats Chanyeol like Chanyeol treats…well, everybody.

The sexual aspects of both relationships may be similar, but when it comes down to it, Jongin and D.O couldn’t vary any more if they tried. They’d probably hate each other if they ever met, God forbid. There’s no need in pretending what he has with Jongin can be competed with. He still knows so little about D.O, whereas he knows everything about Jongin, loves everything about him. Fuck, he doesn’t even know D.O’s real name…he knows it sure as hell isn’t _Satan._

He gives the security guard a knowing nod as he bypasses the long line at the front entrance and ducks into the alley. Another sign this has gone on too long; he’s become a familiar face to strangers in a part of town he only frequents to see one person. _Sad_. As per usual, the alley is not empty. There’s always a few employees on break or just getting some fresh air hanging out by the side entrance. He expects D.O to be out here, but the two bodies he sees moving along each other in the darkness are too long and lanky to be him. He recognizes the third person leaning against the opposite wall, though, so he waves.

“Hey, Yixing.”

He smiles as Chanyeol approaches him, an unlit cigarette trapped between his teeth. “Well hello there, stranger,” he says happily. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Doesn’t look like I missed much,” he mumbles, gesturing towards the kissing couple behind them, completely unbothered by his presence.

“Yup, just Tao being his notoriously selfish self,” he scolds, offering Chanyeol the pack of smokes in his hand. He politely refuses with a shake of his head, kicking his foot up to lean against the wall next to him.

Zitao separates his lips from the person pressing him to the wall, peeking over the other’s shoulder to stick his tongue out childishly. “Hey fuck you, I saw him first.”

“Boys, please, there’s plenty of me to go around,” the stranger reassures, except his voice is incredibly familiar to Chanyeol, and his stomach tightens as the boy’s profile is illuminated by a passing car’s high beams.

 _Son of a bitch,_ “Sehun?”

He looks over his shoulder, hands dropping from Tao’s face to his waist as he turns towards Chanyeol. “Oh, fuck, what are you doing here?” he groans, not bothering to hide his annoyed tone.

“I could ask you the same, but it’s pretty obvious what you’re doing here,” Chanyeol spits back, amused voice pulling a chuckle from Yixing.

“Yeah, it _is_ obvious, now why don’t you go away so I can continue doing what I’m doing here?” he suggests, turning back to Zitao with a smirk. He doesn’t exactly dislike Chanyeol, just as entertained by pissing him off as Jongin is, and nothing pisses him off like feeling unwanted.

Zitao blushes a little while returning the smile and waving lazily in Chanyeol’s direction. “Yeah, get lost, Stretch,” he giggles as Sehun goes back to kissing his neck.

“See how terrible of an influence you are, Sehun? Tao’s usually so nice to me,” he sighs, putting a hand on the employee entrance door, “is D.O working tonight?” he quietly asks Yixing.

“No, but he said he’d be around tonight,” he says, helping Chanyeol hold the door open. He doesn’t need to, the door isn’t that heavy, but Chanyeol knows not to question it. The kid’s just way too polite to be argued with.

He hears Zitao say something as the music flows into the chilled night air, a flood of artificial smoke and electronic music pouring out along with it, and he hears Sehun answer chastely with “nah, he’s just my best friend’s gross little boyfriend.” It only worries him for a second, remembering that Yixing and Zitao do their share of zipping their lips when they need to, especially when it came to relationship drama (they were too _chill_ for that, apparently). Plus, Sehun would probably be high off his ass or crashing by the time he got home, Jongin would hang up on him before he could even mentioning seeing Chanyeol tonight, let alone any information he’d drag out of those two.

He navigates easily through the large crowd, making his way to the bar. The smell of hookah is strong as he passes the open curtain of a VIP room, the silhouette of partyers emerging from the thick smoke and glowing lights. It makes him think of the only time he’d brought Jongin here, an impromptu night out ending in a fight outside the club and make-up sex in the back of his car. They had only been dating for about two weeks, so Chanyeol’s past partners were still lurking, unsated by his claims of finally being spoken for. Jongin wasn’t one to battle for attention, so he let Chanyeol have his fun out on the dance floor while he fumed in the corner, smoking with strangers until he finally got angry enough to do a bit of his own straying. Chanyeol couldn’t deny that spotting him from across the club through the smoke, grinding against some muscly stranger covered in glowing body paint, turned him on a little. Okay…more than a little. It turned him on enough to bring it up to Jongin later.

 ** _“You’re so weird,”_** he suddenly hears in a shrill voice echoing in his head.

**_“What’s weird about that? You looked really hot with him...”_ **

**_“Pervert…the one you were with wasn’t so bad either, though…what was her name again?”_ **

Jongin swears he wasn’t this adventurous sexually before they met. Chanyeol would call bullshit if he had any evidence other than his own intuition. It’s not like he’s the one who introduced their rougher habits after all, and dominating force was something that surfaced early in their relationship. Chanyeol never really had an appetite for much of it himself - the marking, the roughness, the introduction of others into their bed - but he’s a people pleaser under that curtain of indifference and sarcasm. If that’s want Jongin wanted, he’d give it to him. That willingness to give all of what Jongin wanted...he assumes it will eventually be his downfall. Jongin wanted so much from him, more than he could give, but he tried as hard as he could – he’s still trying. Jongin wanted to move out of his place, Chanyeol gave him somewhere to go. Jongin wanted to take care of him, wanted to coddle him, he gave him the opportunity to. Jongin wanted to be his boyfriend, so he gave him that. Jongin wanted to be his one & only…he gave him that for as long as he could. But he was willing to try again, because that’s what Jongin wanted from him, and he can’t deny Jongin something he wants, never again. Jongin wants him to treat him better, wants him to stop being such a piece of shit – just wants him to better himself. For some reason. Pity, he assumes. Always assumes. What else could someone like Jongin want with him?

“Heyyyy, want a drink, Bug Eyes?” someone shouts into his ear, and suddenly he’s aware of the body glued against his side, gently rocking to the music. _Fuck, I really gotta stop spacing out._ He looks down to Jongdae, his usual cat-like grin and squinted eyes trained up at Chanyeol was he dances lazily against him. “No? Why not?” he asks after Chanyeol shakes his head and laughs. “You’re lookin’ for Satan, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, have you seen him?”

“Not yet,” he says, taking a sip from the drink in his hand, “he said he’d be back with a couple friends from work, though. You should stick around and play jealous boyfriend, he’s got a major boner for one of them, hahaha.”

That suggestion hits base in a way Jongdae wouldn’t understand, and even if he did understand he’d probably still use the joke, just to be an asshole. ‘Playing jealous boyfriend’ is exactly how he got the window to finally talk to Jongin. The stupid rouse kept them laughing up until they realized they weren’t playing anymore.

Chanyeol couldn’t help noticing Jongin looked absolutely miserable at the end of the bar that day, like all he wanted to do is leap out the window. Chanyeol knows it was incredibly forward of him to jump in and completely cockblock the poor guy pathetically hitting on Jongin since they didn’t really know each other, but he reads body language pretty well, and it was obvious Jongin was searching for an escape. He knows Jongin could have blown him off and insisted he was actually having the time of his life with whatshisname, just for the sake of being polite, but something in his gut told him he wouldn’t. His gut was right, because as soon as they made eye contact across the room Jongin shot him a wide-eyed glance that just screamed ‘oh my God, please save me,’ so he put on his best smile and walked up to the mix-match couple.

 _“ **Hey babe, sorry I’m late,”**_ he said jovially, kissing the then-perfect stranger on the cheek. **_“And who’s this jackass?”_**

 ** _“Oh, honey, no, it’s fine,”_** Jongin replied, quickly standing up from bar stool, **_“my friend here was just keeping me company while I waited! Let’s go~”_**

**_  
__________________________________________________________ **

 

Kyungsoo’s never gonna live this down. Jongdae’s gonna be on the floor when he hears this. It’s absolute comedy gold, something straight out of a cheesy drama or some American sitcom. If he wasn’t living it live and in real-time he’d be laughing his ass off along with the rest of the studio audience. He’s got to be the unluckiest bastard on this side of the planet right now. What are the odds of something like this even happening? All the people in this damn city and he ends up meeting the boy whose relationship he had a partial hand in destroying and helping him destroy it even further? Is there a commandment or scripture to give him advice on this?? _Thou shall not become an unintentional sexual sergeant for a dysfunctional couple_ …he can’t even remember the last time he looked at a bible but he knows that doesn’t sound plausible at all. He’s read weirder stories from the bible, though…

“You could have just told me,” Jongin starts suddenly, sighing when Kyungsoo just blinks at him. “Ya’know, that you don’t like me like that…instead of letting me make a fool of myself.” Jongin’s sitting back on his heels now, looking all too helpless & defeated with his gaze fixed down. 

It makes Kyungsoo feel like the worst person in the world. Truthfully, this was the right thing to do in the first place, so why did he still feel so guilty? “No, no, no, no,” he stammers, sitting up to cup Jongin’s face, “I _do_ like you like that, I do!”

Jongin’s expression is unchanged, so he continues.

“I just…ugh, as much as I really want to do this…and trust me, I _really_ want to do this –”

“Then why are you talking so much?” Jongin interrupts, wrapping his arms around Kyungsoo’s neck. “If you really wanted me you wouldn’t be stalling. Come on, tell me why you suddenly freaked out on me…was I moving too fast?”

“No! You didn’t do anything wrong! It’s just…” Kyungsoo feels his eyes darting around the room, back towards the picture on the ground, at Jongin, then back at the picture. _Jesus Christ, fucking **fuck** my life._ “It’s getting kinda late, won’t your boyfriend be home soon? Or something?” _You’re an idiot, you’re such a fucking idiot._

Jongin’s expression finally changes, though, a corner of his mouth raising a bit as he chuckles shortly. “No, he won’t. And even if he was, it wouldn’t matter. I took his house key this morning.”

“ _Great. Wonderful. That’s hilariously devious of you”_ is what Kyungsoo wants to say, really wishes he could say, because the fact that Chanyeol literally can’t barge in on them eases his nerves a little. Just a little. But not enough that he can fully kiss back when Jongin leans forward again, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth and biting down.

“Is that it?” Jongin asks teasingly. “Are you afraid of my big, bad, boyfriend, Kyungsoo?”

He’s giggling all the way through the question, and Kyungsoo would find that extremely adorable if it wasn’t partially true.

"Are you afraid of what he'd do to you if he saw me all over you like this? He can be a bit scary when he's jealous," Jongin says softly, almost like he's amused. "He'd probably wrap his hands around your pretty little throat," there's a gleam in his eye as he traces fingers over Kyungsoo's Adam's apple and he can't help but shudder. "Nice and tight, hard enough to leave bruises...he loves doing that to me when I piss him off."

It's offputting, the way Jongin bites his lip and speaks fondly of what could possibly be Chanyeol on the brink of murdering the both of them. Or at least it would be offputting if Kyungsoo didn't already know how good those hands felt around his neck, had bruises upon bruises heal from the action Jongin's speaking of. It's clear that Jongin's trying to make his boyfriend sound more intimidating, but subsequently turning himself on in the process. Besides, he's definitely not afraid of Chanyeol, just scared of dying from the awkwardness of him ever finding out this was happening. Imagine, coming home to find your fuck buddy cuddled up to your boyfriend, what kind of twisted karma is that?

And it’s just as hard to explain as it is to believe. God, that 119 call would be legendary. _“Yes, hello, my friend-with-benefits is trying to kill me for making out with his boyfriend…no, I didn’t know it was his boyfriend…yes, I did know he was cheating on someone but I didn’t know it was…hey, there’s no need for the name calling! I’m in mortal danger right now, have some respect!!”_ Kyungsoo really doesn’t want to go down as Korea’s most infamous home wrecker.

“No, I’m not…afraid…of your…boyfriend…I just,” _wow, he really likes kissing._ Kyungsoo definitely likes it too, but the last thing he needs right now is to reawaken his calmed erection; thinking with that head is what got him into this mess in the first place. Jongin really can’t seem to help himself, though, hands immediately gripping Kyungsoo’s hips and traveling up his shirt. _Jesus Christ, Jongin, what was the point of letting me put the clothes back on if you were planning on trying to undress me again?!_ “I just really don’t want you to rush into something on my advice,” he finally gets to say when Jongin moves away from his mouth.

Jongin makes a sound in understanding against his collarbone, listening to what Kyungsoo was talking about while simultaneously trying to stop him from talking all together. His babbling isn’t killing his mood, but it’s definitely slowing things down.

“I mean, I – _mmm, fuck_ – I…give shit advice all the time. Like, super shit advice, I have no idea why people listen to me.”

“Maybe because you have really fun ideas,” Jongin says while nuzzling into Kyungsoo’s neck, tufts of hair scratching his chin. He’s awkwardly positioned himself halfway on top of him, in a way that won’t be comfortable until Kyungsoo lays back down, so he does. Of course it’s a bad idea, he realizes that when Jongin ends up cozily straddling him. He’s sure the boy would have made adequate of their positions whether he complied or not. At least this way Jongin’s knees are denting his thigh anymore.

“Fun _bad_ ideas,” Kyungsoo corrects.

“Really fun bad ideas,” Jongin mumbles, laughing again when Kyungsoo jerks at his hand on his crotch.

“Stop that! Would you listen to me for a second? I’m trying to be serious.”

“You’re doing a shitty job of it, haha.”

“I’m serious, Jongin. I have shitty ideas, this being one of them. Don’t ever listen to me, don’t take my advice ever again. I’m crazy, okay? I’m a horrible, horrible person and you should never do as I say.” Jongin thankfully stills at that, although the words came out shaky and unconvincing. The pressure of a palm against his dick doesn’t alleviate, though. He tries to shimmy up the couch to get a better look at Jongin’s face and escape from under him a little. Jongin stops him, pinning his arms down and pressing their chests together, lips raised to the shell of Kyungsoo’s ear.

“Well, maybe I’m a horrible person, too…I mean, I attract people with bad ideas all the time, maybe I’m just as bad. We’ve only known each other for a while…you don’t know how horrible I can be…”

Jongin’s tone is unreadably humorless, grave and low and nowhere near as playful as a second ago. A shiver runs down Kyungsoo’s spine, but he tries to disguise it by squirming again. _Damn, this boy._

“You don’t even know me, Kyungsoo…I could be crazy, too, for all you know…maybe I’m some kind of psychopath? I could be a serial killer or some kind of sadistic nymphomaniac…hypothetically speaking, of course.”

Jongin’s grip tightens and Kyungsoo can feel him smiling against his neck, just barely scrapping at the skin with his teeth. He shudders again, covering it by clearing his throat – _fuck, so much for not reawakening my boner…_ “That’s true, but I just don’t want to feel responsible for any of your hypothetical psychotic serial killing or presumed nymphomania tonight.”

“Aww, why not?” Jongin coos, giddy tone returning to his voice. “I promise I can be gentle…”

“Are you referring to the killing part of that hypothetical or the nympho part?”

“Depends on whichever aroused you the most.”

He’s honestly not sure which part did. “That’s weird as shit, you know that, right?”

“Well, I’m weird as shit. You’d know that if you knew me better.”

“Seriously, Jongin,” he says, hand under the younger’s chin, forcing him to look up. “I know you’re joking around right now but maybe we should get to know each other better before we…ya’know...fuck.” Kyungsoo has no idea how he’s keeping his breathing even or how his voice is still coming out so clear, considering how aggressively Jongin’s steering them back to the same position he shocked them out of ten minutes ago. What an indecisive bastard the voice in his head is, scolding him for considering this one minute, encouraging him the next. Hell of a time for his conscious to throw _its own conscious_ out the window. “And you really should just take a day to think about all this…do you actually want to cheat on -” he bites the inside of his cheek, _goddammit I almost said his name_ , “your boyfriend? Or do you just feel like you have to because he did?” **_Wow, listen to you, Dr. Phil. Think you’re qualified to give that kind of advice? And didn’t you just tell him not to listen to you? You’re gonna confuse the poor thing._** God, if there was a mental mute button Kyungsoo would push it so fast right now. He’s a hypocrite, he knows, and everything in his mind is screaming at him, **_you’ve come this far, why not?_** – but he can’t. He’s done enough. For once he’s gonna do the right thing instead of getting his rock soft…it probably doesn’t help that Jongin’s still sitting on it, though…

Jongin resembles a bored teenager being lectured by a parent as he listens to Kyungsoo, rolling his eyes and huffing when he finishes. He looks down with that flirtatious gleam still in his eyes, so it surprises Kyungsoo when he releases his grip and rolls off of him, onto the floor. Face down right onto the floor, without a word. He scurries into a cross-legged sitting position next to the couch before Kyungsoo can ask if he’s okay, expression indifferent as he looks at him still lying on the couch. Kyungsoo shifts onto his side and watches Jongin childishly slide the picture frame in circles on the carpet, like a toy.

Kyungsoo laughs, _oh wow, maybe he really is weirder than I realized…cool,_ but stops when Jongin hums loudly, still spinning the frame roughly along the floor.

“Hmmm…actually…yeah, I do,” he says nonchalantly before nudging the frame under the couch. He just slides it under there, like an empty potato chip bag he felt too lazy to discard in the bin. “I do want to cheat on my boyfriend. Really badly. I mean, he’s had it coming for months now, the lying little cunt.”

Kyungsoo bites his lip, feeling the sting of the insult as if it’s being hurled at him directly. It certainly is becoming of him.

“But I guess you’re kinda right…if you wanna wait it’s no problem with me.”

He finishes with a smile, a genuine one. The kind Kyungsoo is honestly tired of seeing aimed his way. He doesn’t deserve this affection, Jesus, what the hell do people even see in him? He’s horrible. “Okay…okay, good…that’s good,” he stumbles through, trying to find the right words to fill the awkward space.

“Sooooo…” Jongin slurs.

“Sooooo,” Kyungsoo repeats. He’s honestly out of things to say, damn near speechless, and that’s saying something for him. Past experience has not prepared him properly for making polite conversation after rejecting someone. He can’t even really remember the last time he rejected someone. “Do you…do you still wanna go out or –”

“No, not really…”

“Oh…okay…” He looks down at his hands, thumbs twiddling around each other, and realizes he’s sitting up in that uncomfortable first-time-at-a-friend’s-house way: straight up with his hands in his lap, legs glued together, looking around aimlessly. His eyes land on Jongin, still sitting with his legs crossed, facing Kyungsoo on the couch. “I guess…I guess I should go, then.”

“Wait, don’t,” Jongin exclaims, hand jutting out to touch Kyungsoo’s leg. “You don’t have to leave. We can still hang out, right? We could go eat or something if you don’t want to stay in. I mean you can – you can leave if you want…but I…I don’t know…I just kinda…don’t want you to...leave, I guess.”

Kyungsoo can feel himself blushing, but he can’t muster the energy to try and calm it. Jongin’s tripping over words, dancing around what he’s trying to say the same way he was earlier; of his own accord, no doubt. Kyungsoo wasn’t doing anything to fluster him, he wasn’t teasing him like Jongin was, and yet he was still babbling on, trying to get around begging him to stay and sounding desperate. He’s taken aback by the loss of lust in his expression. He looks so content and hopeful, like he’d be happy just staring at him all night despite the fact he was acting like some insatiable minx moments ago. _Jesus Christ, what is this kid???_

“I’ll keep my hands to myself this time, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he adds, retracting his hand slowly and laughing.

Could Kyungsoo really say no to that face? **_Yes, and you should!_** “Well…” **_You dodged one bullet just to stand in the path of another?_** “Okay.” **_Kyungsoo, you dumb fuc –_** “But you better keep your hands to yourself.”

“I’ll behave, I promise~”

_For some reason I don’t really believe that…_

_  
__________________________________________________________

 

The weekend passes like a blur, and Monday comes too soon for both Chanyeol and Jongin.

Chanyeol comes home at around 2 AM after he finally tires of Jongdae’s company, Sehun’s presence and his search for D.O. He talks to Jongin through the wood of the front door when he realizes his key is missing from his ring. Jongin answers him immediately after he shouts the first time, telling him he needed space and had no intention of opening the door. Jongin asked him not to be angry, but he couldn’t really help it. I mean, he had no problem giving him a little breathing room, but was locking him out of his own home really necessary? He must be losing it. They argue for a while – Chanyeol in booming knocks and exasperated shouts, Jongin in hushed, relaxed retorts – until Jongin stops answering him and won’t pick up his phone. He calls Yifan and listens to him whine about the time and how tired he is but he was awake enough to answer the phone, so he was awake enough to open the door when he got to his house. Minseok and Yifan allow him to mope around their apartment all Saturday and crash on the couch that night. On Sunday morning he asks Jongin’s voicemail box to at least leave him some clothes so he can go to work unashamed if he wasn’t planning on opening the damn door.

He comes home Sunday night to find the front door open and Jongin sitting at the dinner table.

He motions towards the kitchen, and Chanyeol quickly forgets everything he was going to scream at him. Jongin won’t talk to him, but the silence doesn’t exactly bother him. He’d rather listen to Jongin ignore him than listen to his friends have sex all night like they didn’t know he was even there. Plus his own bed is a lot more comfortable than their sofa. They watch television for a while. He falls asleep before Jongin, but wakes to find him pressed into his chest, clinging to his forearm. He doesn’t budge when he tries to shake him off, so he begins to roll onto his back. He stops when Jongin’s eyes open slowly. He wasn’t asleep. He wasn’t grabbing for him in the dark out of habit. It takes him by surprise, so he doesn’t move as Jongin blinks at him lazily. He opens his mouth, not exactly sure what he’s get gonna say, but Jongin –

“Shut up…just go back to sleep.”

So he does.

Jongin’s Friday night lead him to more endearing settings. With nothing interesting on television and a dwindling desire to stay in, he and Kyungsoo ended up at a 24-hour diner a block away from the apartment. It was fairly empty at that time of night, so they had the entire corner of the restaurant to themselves, tucked away in the far right booth next to the kitchen. They talked, they laughed, they made fun of the romantic comedy cliché of sharing a milkshake with two straws, but still ended up doing it. Kyungsoo told him about his _eccentric_ best friend, his corporate-city parents, and his boringly sheltered childhood. They debated over music and movie genres, agreeing to swap DVDs and CDs sometime soon. He wished they could have stayed there all night, but he honestly didn’t want to pass up the absolute riot that would ensue when Chanyeol came home. He boasted about keeping his promise while they walked back towards his building, then had to brace himself against Kyungsoo’s car when he trapped him in a kiss. Not that he minded much.

He was sitting in the hallway sipping his coffee when Chanyeol began banging on the door two hours later. He sat against the wall under the coat rack, ear to the door and snickering as one of their neighbors threatened to call the police if Chanyeol didn’t quiet down soon. The last thing he heard Chanyeol ask was where he was supposed to go, why he would kick him out so suddenly without warning, to which he rolled his eyes and walking into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. He slept peacefully late into Saturday morning and suffered through lunch with a maternal Joonmyun and the sore, hung-over mess formally known as Sehun. He spends the rest of the day cleaning up the house and ignoring Chanyeol’s calls in favor of texting Kyungsoo.

He makes the choice to let Chanyeol in Sunday night without much contemplation. He resists Chanyeol’s weak attempts to initiate conversation while they eat. He ignores him when he tries to ask about the movie they watch afterwards. He can’t will himself off to sleep quickly like he wants to, not with Chanyeol next to him. He moves forward, reaches for him, because he honestly finds it hard to get to sleep without touching him when possible. He feels Chanyeol try to move away and he doesn’t let him. _Sad._ He doesn’t want this to be his reality. He doesn’t what this to be what he wants, what he needs…but it is. But just because it’s what he needs doesn’t mean he has to like it. He can see Chanyeol trying to read his blank expression in the dim light, searching for the words to say. He stops him before he can say something to piss him off.

“Shut up,” he says, closing his eyes again. “Just go back to sleep.”

And he does. Jongin follows close behind him.

 

Jongin tries to decide whether or not he’s going to speak to Chanyeol today as he makes breakfast the next morning. He might as well. He’s already up way earlier than he needs to be, cooking for him like he always does. He’s purposely sending mixed signals now, just for the hell of it, so every day brings this kind of decision…a mental flower plucking, a game of _I love him, I love him not~_ he hates to love playing. Still, he’s worried about giving the illusion that’s he’s forgiven Chanyeol, though he thinks he may have already. Jongin feels likes he’s been forgiving Chanyeol every day since they’ve met, every day since they officially got together. Chanyeol’s always been screwing up and he’s always been forgiving him. It’s an impulsion now, just varying in duration depending on what the giant moron did that time.  Jongin knew he wouldn’t be angry for long, he knew he’d end up forgiving him like the idiot he is. He’s already forgiven Chanyeol a dozen times over for cheating on him, but Chanyeol doesn’t know that. He doesn’t deserve to know how quickly he’s gotten over this.

Maybe he’s dragging this along more so this time because of how Chanyeol’s reacting. He’s put with his bullshit for so long, it was bound to catch him off guard when Jongin finally stood up for himself instead of enduring silently like he usually does. Jongin can’t say he’s not enjoying this shift in their relationship. He’s always been the predictable one, whereas he had to anticipate a change in Chanyeol’s personality every day. Their roles have switched. He’s finding time for spontaneous actions while acting relatively normal (well, normal for Jongin), and it’s got Chanyeol visibly on edge, behaving more than he usually does. He quite literally punched him in the chest this morning as he scrambled out of his arms, looking as disgusted as he could with being touched, and now he’s making him an omelet.

Chanyeol pads into the kitchen slowly, watching Jongin carefully after returning his cheery “good morning” in that skeptical tone he’s been using a lot lately. He’s seemingly shell-shocked by Jongin’s neutrality, second-guessing any kindness he’s shown him in the past few days. It’s like he’s lost his ability to read Jongin easily and is afraid of saying the wrong thing.

And Jongin’s loving that shit, to be honest.

“Hey, can we talk about something kinda serious?” Chanyeol asks from across the table.

Jongin looks up from his book, saving his place with his thumb. “Sure, babe, what is it?” Chanyeol cringes at him calling him ‘babe’ and Jongin has to hold back his satisfied smile.

“Well…you remember how my aunt’s a psychologist…or whatever.”

“Yeah…she’s a therapist.”

“Right, whatever. Anyway…she’s always been kinda… _concerned_ about me…”

“Huh,” Jongin huffs, resisting the urge to add ‘imagine that’ by taking a bite of the sausage link on his fork.

“So I’ve kinda been…seeing her…and talking to her about…stuff.”

Jongin stops chewing.

“Yeah…I’ve been seeing her for a while, actually…”

“How long is ‘a while,’ Yeol? How often do you see her?”

He puts his spoon down and pushes his plate to the side, putting his head in his hands. “Uhhh…once every week for the last…I don’t know…four or five years.”

 _Years?!_ “Years?” Jongin asks, trying to dial back his expression. He takes a sip from his mug as his mind begins to wander. “But…isn’t she a sex therapist?”

“Yeah,” he answers quickly, sighing.

“Have you talked about us with her? About shit we do?”

“No, no…well, a little but not that much. Since we’ve been together I haven’t really talked about you…but she wants me to.”

Jongin wants to say something, but he honestly can’t think of anything more to say. He’s shocked, most of all, but he’s also in disbelief and a little insulted. Chanyeol doesn’t talk about feelings and his actions or how they affect other people, he doesn’t talk about the things he doesn’t wrong, he can’t even admit when he’s at fault most of the time, yet he’s in therapy? And he’s been there for years?? _It sure as fuck isn’t showing…_ and why the hell doesn’t he talk about Jongin? He gives him plenty of reason to. With all they’ve done he’d have to see her more than once a week.

“And she wants you there, too…”

“What? Like couple’s therapy?” Jongin wants to laugh, a slip of a chuckle escaping his lips. He covers his mouth, hiding behind his mug when Chanyeol looks up at him. “Are you serious?”

“I already told you I am,” Chanyeol says, sounding slightly offended. “Look if you don’t want to do it I understand. I hate it, I’ve always hated it, but my parents made me and bitch if I miss sessions.” He gets up from the table, slipping his phone and wallet into his pocket. “I have to and I didn’t want to drag you into it but Hyojin said she could maybe help and I just thought…ugh – never mind, I’m gonna be late for work, forget I even said anything.”

He’s shrugging his jacket on at the door before Jongin can really catch up with his rambling, and Jongin almost walks into pantry door following after him. “Wait,” he calls, but he doesn’t turn around. “Chanyeol.” He grabs his arm, tugging him back. He looks at Jongin’s hand as it falls to circle his wrist. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Chanyeol repeats. “You actually want to?”

He looks down at their hands, fingers now threaded loosely, and he wants to punch himself. He’s really got to work on resisting that impulsion to touch him. “Yeah,” he says, gently pulling their hands apart. “Yeah, I want to go...couldn’t hurt, right?”


	7. Psychics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyungsoo doesn't handle crushes well and Jongdae won't ever let him forget it.
> 
> Chanyeol and Jongin go to their first (and hopefully last) therapy session.

At this point, Jongdae was literally begging Kyungsoo to stop smiling. “You’re really starting to freak me out, man.”

Kyungsoo looks up from his phone at his grimacing friend across the kitchen, trying to move his mouth into its default tight line, but the corners won’t budge. He’s been grinning like an idiot since he got home last night, maybe even in his sleep; he really couldn’t stop. He shouldn’t be so happy considering he still has a lot to deal with, but Jongin likes him and he…likes that Jongin likes him. He likes it a lot. And for now that’s as far as he wants to think into this whole situation. Of course the thought of Chanyeol finding out that he likes that Jongin likes him shouldn’t make him feel like smiling. There’s no way this shit isn’t going to come back around and bite him in the ass, not now that he’s on a good karma kick. Any other time good luck would be knocking at his door with promises of all being well if you do everything you can to not think about it at all. He’s essentially come full circle in that kind of thinking anyway, and maybe with a clearer conscious ignoring this problems is a bit more difficult, but he’s managing. Managing quite well, in fact.

Instead of dwelling on the feeling of his heart stopping when he realized who Jongin’s boyfriend was, he remembers the feeling of Jongin’s fingers dancing across his skin, remembers his voice seeping through and drowning out his every thought more than every voice in his head screaming how wrong and right everything they’re doing was. He remembers Jongin’s beaming smile and crinkled eyes and how they still shined under the harsh fluorescent lights of the diner. He remembers their foreheads colliding when they both tried to avoid an awkward silence by slurping at the chocolate milkshake between them. He remembers the taunting tap of his footsteps beside him as they walked, ignoring the urge to grab his hand or throw caution to the wind and openly invite him to defile him in any way he saw fit. The thought of Jongin being Chanyeol’s boyfriend was the last thing on his mind when he pushed him into his car door and pressed their lips together…

He remembers all this but reminds himself he can’t _like_ any of this too much. He can be attracted to Jongin as much as he wants, but _liking_ him? Nope. Nuh uh. Can’t happen. Nothing good ever happens when he _likes_ someone. So, for now, he just likes how much Jongin likes _him_.

Jongdae, on the other hand, is still as unconvinced by that as he is disturbed by Kyungsoo’s smile. “Oh my God…”

“What?” Kyungsoo says, not bothering to look back up as he begins typing out a reply to Yixing’s good morning text. Something about ‘ceasing the day’ and ‘being the best you,’ same old bullshit Yixing is always spewing, but for some reason it resonates with him a bit more this morning. Still, Kyungsoo replies in regular fashion.

 _I thought I told you to stop sending me these stupid things…_ ( - . -”)

“You like him.”

Kyungsoo pauses with his thumb hovering over the send key, feeling his face drop a mile in one second. “Come again?”

“You… _like_ …him,” Jongdae slowly repeats, purposefully enunciating the second word.

Kyungsoo stares at him like the words literally slapped him across the face. _Fuck, what is he, a psychic?_ Did something on his face give it away or – _oh, fuck._ He would much rather a palm striking his cheek than the barrage of narcissist, know-it-all bullshit that was about to be thrown his way. He doesn’t know how long he’s been staring at Jongdae’s openmouthed grin, placed there precisely when his own fell right off his face and onto the floor, but apparently he had already started protesting. His mind picks up on his shaky voice halfway through the sentence, “- so ridiculous, you’re an idiot.”

“No, you’re the idiot, and you like Jongin,” Jongdae deadpans, taking a pointed bite of his toast.

Kyungsoo scoffs, shaking his head. “I don’t like anyone, remember?” Jongdae constantly tells him he’s a cold, heartless snake in the grass, and now he’s suddenly capable of admiration? It truly was ridiculous. Jongdae is ridiculous.

And heavily medicated at 7:30 in the morning, thanks to the first glass of Coca Cola and crushed Percocet he downed as soon as he got up. But even sober he’s ridiculous, so that doesn’t even matter.

“Yeah, you’re a soulless asshole, but even demons have muses,” he says, pushing passed him and out of the kitchen.

“Hey, I have a soul!”

“A black one,” Jongdae corrects as he plops onto the couch. “And isn’t it funny how you still haven’t denied having a very existent crush on that guy, but quickly defend your barely existent soul?” He raises his eyebrows before turning on his side and clicking on the television, as if he’s trying to end the conversation.

But Kyungsoo knows this lecture isn’t over. Because Jongdae never stops talking when he thinks he’s right. And he is right. Kyungsoo realizes he hasn’t once said “ _no, I don’t like Jongin,”_ not once. He opens his mouth, but –

“And you can’t deny it now, because it’d be a lie, and you’d still have a crush on him whether you deny it or not.”

 _Fuck._ He’s right. _Why is Jongdae always right?_ Years of drug abuse must have made him ascend into this omniscient being disguised in the eccentric shell of a human. Maybe he is psychic…or maybe Kyungsoo just extremely obvious and bad at hiding this kinda of thing…still, Kyungsoo finds himself attempting to argue with him as he walks into the living room and kneels in front of the coffee table. “I don’t.”

“You don’t _what_?” Jongdae chuckles, dipping his finger into the empty glass mug on the table. He scrapes some of the residue caked at the bottom and carries it to his mouth.

“I just don’t!” He can’t even say it. _Oh my God, why is Jongdae always fucking right?_ “So shut up about it.”

Jongdae smiles around his finger, shrugging as he turns his attention back to the television. “This is so adorable, you have a crush, aww.”

“Shut the fuck up, Jongdae.”

“Still not denying it!” Jongdae laughs, flipping through more channels. “For real, this is cute. You went on, like, a legit date with someone, dude!"

"I go on dates all the time."

"But not with guys you're trying to fuck! And you rejected the guy, like, who the hell are you, and what have you done with best friend? I mean, this is unbeliev –” he stops when he hears Kyungsoo fumbling in the kitchen again, he cranes his neck to see him returning with a 2-liter Sprite bottle and his pill crusher. “What are yo –”

“Stop talking,” Kyungsoo says, snatching Jongdae’s mug.

“Hey, that’s mi –”

“You need to sober up, ‘cause you’re taking me to work. No more for you,” he says, monotone, but smiling again.

Jongdae whines, trying to reach for the glass now on the floor beside Kyungsoo.

He nudges it inch by inch out of his reach with his knee as drops a few lone Percocet tablets in plastic container and starts grinding. He sputters when Jongdae nearly falls off the couch still trying to grab for the mug with trembling fingers, giggling when Jongdae whines again. He dumps the powdered pills into the glass and pours the rest of the Sprite into the mug, stirring it with his pinky finger.

“Are you really gonna dr –”

He raises his hand to stop him from talking. “Yup. Now hush.”

“That’s actually a good idea, maybe it’ll make it easier for you to relax and admit you have a cru –”

“I’m gonna punch you in the fucking face.”

Jongdae’s actually wrong this time, but only partially. Because this isn’t a good idea. At all.

But Kyungsoo didn’t really care. He felt as if he was beaming like a new bride and it was nice, but kind of disgusting at the same time. Sobriety kind of felt disgusting. It really did. He wanted to be better at this, be happy in his detoxed body and be proud of himself, but he missed it. Missed the vibrancy of the world and the carelessness he used to feel. Missed the tingly of his skin in reaction to any brush of flesh. He thinks of how much better that Friday night could have gone if he’d been his old self. Sobriety made it both easier and harder to keep Jongin out of his mind and pants. Any other time he would have literally jumped at that kind of invitation, consequences be damned, he would have dealt with his guilt later. Much later. But instead his conscious took over, his own self-deprecating conscious, that little voice that is so much easier to ignore and influence with narcotics.

Sobriety was supposed to make him feel liberated, but he never felt the imprisonment of addiction in the first place. He never had to do unholy things for his high, never felt the pressure of need or pain of withdrawal. He was an addict in the smallest sense, one of circumstance and convenience. There was nothing he was attempting to escape or numb, other than boredom and curiosity. Liberation from nothing and freedom from nothing. That’s what he hates the most, the nothing. The overwhelming feeling of absolutely nothing he felt constantly. He hates nothing more than anything, hates it more than the bitter taste of pulverized pills and chalky grit of dissolvable papers. Hates it more than how whiskey burns and how hash burdens him into full-blown panic attacks.

Sobriety felt like nothing, and nothing is what he felt. Emptiness. Loneliness. Nothing. He was nothing when he’s like this.

Still himself in tone and expression, still interesting enough as it be, still breathing, existing, yet still nothing. Incomplete. Hollow. Nothing.

And he’d honestly rather be high than be nothing.

It’s a pathetic excuse, but it’s his, and he’s fine with it. And once again, Jongdae is shown to be absolutely right. His built tolerance lessened the effects of the quick high, but it does relax him nonetheless. Relaxed him well enough that he thought nothing of the reckless way Jongdae drove, well enough that he didn’t object to him slipping a pill bottle into his jacket pocket as he exited the car, telling him not to be sober when he came back to pick him up. After two months, he was tired of weak refusals, so he nods and does well not to stumble as he enters the building. He felt more comfortable telling a particularly rude customer to go fuck himself, whereas he’d usually let his conscious talk him into being polite. And maybe he cracked too much of a smile while Joonmyun yelled at him for it, but being banished to the folding stations wasn’t exactly a punishment to him. And he might have accidentally given some discounts to a couple people while on the registers today, but in his good graces he couldn’t care less. In this state, blissful generosity felt right, felt good…he only felt justified in positivity when he’s like this. There’s so much to be negative about when sober, so many factors complicating similar choices and so many things to worry about…intoxication temporarily shelves all of those pestering things. Intoxication made it easier for him to be happy Might as well spread the happiness, right? Share the joy, however artificially it may have been attained. For the first time in year-long weeks, he felt at ease, gleeful in uncaring euphoria. He didn’t have to constantly ward off thoughts of his nothingness, that singular feeling chased away by calm and warmth. He felt relieved in his intoxication, so much so that he wanted to share it with someone (well, someone else, since he’d already shared with Sehun. He’ll probably have to clean up after him all day but the goofy smile plastered on the kid’s face seems worth the extra work).

If only the person he really felt like sharing his completed self with didn’t call in this morning…

_________________________________________________________

_Jongin can’t recall much of the first times he’d met Chanyeol. He can’t recall the month or day, or even the time like Chanyeol does. His earliest memory of them together was at some random party Sehun drug him to. They’d only ever gone into that part of town to score drugs, so he at least had one laminate of good times to come that kept him optimistic. On the way there they picked up Sehun’s kinda-sorta boyfriend outside of the gay club he worked at, and he somehow simultaneously directed him the rest of the way to the party while entertaining Sehun in the back of Jongin’s car. Ughhh, he wishes that was one of the parts of the night he forgot. Besides meeting the mix-match couple throwing the party and their well-stocked liqueur cabinet, he can’t recall what he was doing the two or three hours before he gets the extremely clear image of Chanyeol leering over him, the limited light of a light bulb above them and someone’s irritating tweed trench coat scratching his knees. He remembers Chanyeol babbling between kisses about this being the fourth or fifth time they’d met, but he barely recalled any of those times besides the first. Other than Chanyeol’s face and body, Jongin can only remember dizziness. Dizziness and..._

_Heat. Everything was suffocating heat, despite them being alone in what Jongin didn’t realize was a coat closet until Chanyeol pulled away from him, finally giving him space to process and breathe. But he didn’t want that space for long. He could feel the bass of whatever song was playing in the next room as he leaned against the wall, smelt vodka and marijuana in the air, tasted it on his tongue, and then felt heat. Overwhelming warmth as Chanyeol’s hands returned to his body, caressed his skin and tugged at his clothes, lips returned to his neck, his chest, and maybe it was the alcohol or the drugs or the anonymity but something about this was different. Special in a way he still can’t explain. Something about this was new, and being a person of many experiences, new was something Jongin wanted more than anything. A new body to explore, a new voice to recognize, new memories to make._

_Chanyeol was always something new to him. Excitingly new. Frustratingly new. Confusingly new. Infuriatingly new. But always new, nonetheless. Always._

_The only thing that never changed about Chanyeol was the fact that he wanted Jongin. Wanted to talk to him, be around him, see him, fuck him – Chanyeol always wanted him. Even when Sehun doesn’t want him around and Amber’s too busy and all his other friends are away, Chanyeol was always there, always available. That was never new. Ever._

“Do you remember the first time you told Chanyeol you loved him?”

Jongin shrugs immediately, still hesitant and aloof next to Chanyeol on the couch. “Not really.”

He’s lying, and Hyojin can tell. Sly disbelief and smugness is written all over her face, and Jongin’s not sure how many times he’s had to remind himself she can’t read his thoughts. _Maybe I should have worn my aluminum foil hat…_

“Chanyeol and I talked quite a bit that before, I believe –”

“Hey, isn’t it against the law to tell people about stuff we’ve talked about?” Chanyeol interrupts.

“Oh, hush, you. As if I haven’t done it before. Besides, what you know about disclosure laws could fit in the palm of my hand,” she says, rolling her eyes. She straightens her face and directs a smile at Jongin. “Come on, honey, I’m sure you remember something about that day…”

He does, but what would be the point of sharing? Chanyeol already told her about it, she’s probably already heard his little sob story a dozen times by now, about how devastated he was when Jongin took too long to answer. Did she really need to hear it from Jongin’s point of view?

Perhaps. Maybe Chanyeol hadn’t told her the entire story…there’s no way he could have.

“He was asleep the first time I said it. I punched him when he didn’t say anything, but he wasn’t even awake. I said it again the next morning…”

_It was only a few months into their relationship, maybe two or three, they hadn’t even had the ‘official boyfriend’ talk yet. But Chanyeol was already acting just as possessive as he is now, and he actually said it first, before Jongin. He remembers Chanyeol’s expectant expression when he said it, too. Then it went confused and vulnerable, like he wasn’t sure why it came out of his mouth. And maybe he looked a bit scared…Jongin liked him like that. So he pretended to be shocked, purposefully stumbled over his words after Chanyeol broke eye contact with him. At first he just thought maybe he was kidding, that he was just trying to make Jongin agree to stay another night (he’d been hiding out at Chanyeol’s place all weekend), but then he turned over and shook Jongin’s hand off his shoulder when he touched him. If Jongin would have finished getting dressed and left like he was about to, he’s almost certain he would have cried himself to sleep._

_“You don’t have to say it back if you don’t want to” is all he said before pulling the covers over himself._

_Jongin honestly felt bad that he didn’t say it back, but if he’d said it then Chanyeol would have thought he was just trying to save him from the embarrassment. So Jongin waited, wrapped his arm around Chanyeol’s waist and softly kissed his back, whispered “I do love you” into his shoulder blade knowing Chanyeol wouldn’t be able to hear it over his obnoxious snoring. So obnoxious he thought it was fake, that he was just teasing him by not answering the same way he did. He only stirred a bit when Jongin punched him in the arm._

_Jongin woke the next morning to the smell of scorched eggs and the sound of the shower running._

_“I’ll think about it.”_

_“About moving in or about loving me?” Chanyeol asked nonchalantly as he could from behind the curtain. It probably would have been more nonchalant if he hadn’t answered immediately. Like minutes had passed since his confession instead of hours._

_“Maybe both,” Jongin teased, and a wet loofa hits him in the back of the head. “Ow!”_

_“Asshole.”_

_Jongin throws it back over the shower curtain rod. “Hopeless romantic.”_

_“Hey, take that shit back before I show you how unromantic I can be.”_

_“Threatening? Oh, how sweet and mature. I love you, too.”_

“So your relationship has always been volatile?”

“I wouldn’t say volatile, just…complicated,” Chanyeol soothingly says, looking to Jongin for confirmation. But Jongin’s looking at Hyojin, and she’s rolling her eyes once again, like she’s heard that type of phrasing before.

“I’d say volatile,” Jongin confirms, leaning against the arm of the couch and turning toward Chanyeol. “In fact, I’d say most of its volatility comes from your end of the deal.”

“What? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Having known you longer, I’m inclined to agree,” Hyojin nods, scribbling someone on the notepad in front of her.

“You’re both full of shit, then.” Chanyeol sits back and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m not the one attacking people when we could have just talked about it.”

“Oh, fuck you, you deserved it! See, this is exactly what I’m talking about, you can’t take any kind of criticism without blaming someone else!”

“And Jongin’s problem is purposely aggravating that seemingly natural volatility you have.”

Jongin’s head turns, eyebrow cocked in confusion. “Excuse me?”

“Jongin, would you say you have a combative personality?”

“Pshhh, I would.”

“Shut up, Chanyeol. And no, I don’t have a combative personality. I’m only combative with indecisive jerks who can’t make up their mind about how they want to treat a person they claim to love.”

“Do you think you use sex as a weapon?”

“No!” they both answer, quite quickly, then look at each other accusatively. “Yes, you do!”

Hyojin chuckles, jotting down something else in her notes. “I was actually talking to Jongin but it’s interesting that you both answered…hmmm. But then again, I was gonna segway the answer into an explanation of how you both do that, soooo…moving on.”

She begins to ask Chanyeol a series of questions Jongin pretty much zones out of. He’s still stuck on the assumption he uses sex as a weapon…

A weapon? Like a gun? A blade? He’s never threatened anyone with his sexuality. Maybe withheld it, teased others with it, but never in a weaponing way, he thinks. To say he uses it as a weapon sounds so…malicious. He’s never hurt anyone with his sexuality. He’s never used to get a promotion at work or free drinks at a bar. If anything, his sexuality works against him more than to his advantage. _I mean, it attracts idiots like Chanyeol…that’s enough of an example._

But it is an advantage at times. He’s been in relationships he knows wouldn’t have worked to his liking for he wasn’t conventionally attractive. And sometimes he does things conventionally attractive people get away with, like talking his way out of a ticket, or persuading a lover, but –

“Jongin?”

“Huh?”

“I asked if you feel validated by sex appeal? Do you find value in appealing sexually to others?”

“……doesn’t everybody?”

“I suppose, but there’s a lot who don’t. You didn’t answered the question, by the way…”

“I guess so…what, is that bad or something? That doesn’t sound horrible to me.”

“Didn’t say it was, it’s strange that you thought that’s what I’m implying…almost as strange as you two pretty much answering that question so similarly…”

Jongin says nothing, only looks to Chanyeol, whose casually gazing out the window. _Of course, of course he’s looking away. Coward._

“Do you feel as smothered as Chanyeol says he is?”

“What?”

“Chanyeol says he sometimes feels smothered by your affection –”

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” Chanyeol tries to save. “It’s just we’re always together and –”

“You feel smothered? _You?_ I smother you?”

“Jongin –”

“Shut up! I smother you?! Are you kidding? _You_ approached me, _you_ started texting and calling me, _you_ begged me to move in with you, YOU said ‘I love you’ first, but _I’m_ the smother??”

This time Chanyeol stays silent, and Jongin’s glad he does, because he’s been speaking long enough, apparently. Jongin’s curious as to what else he’s told her, because she doesn’t sound the least bit unfamiliar with him and the way he acts. Had he really been whining to this woman about how overbearing _he_ can be?

“Bullshit. Do you have any idea how jealous he gets? How many times he’s forced me out of parties because I was having too much fun without him? Or insulted anyone who looked at me for too long? If anyone’s smothered, it’s _me_. I feel like I can’t even so much as talk to people when he’s around!”

Chanyeol doesn’t even flinch when Jongin hits him.

“You’re always smothering me with your possessiveness!”

“ _My_ possessiveness?! And what would you call constantly bruising me every night like some enraged horny cat? I guess you just call that affection, too, huh?”

“That’s not even the same thing. Excuse me for feeling as though something a little rougher would translate better to a hardheaded jackass like you. And last time I checked you weren’t complaining too much.”

“Maybe so, but you’re always acting so damn innocent! I don’t make you do anything, you just get off on inflicting pain,” Chanyeol alleges, sitting up and scooting to the edge of the couch, “or am I supposed to find my bruised rib cute and loving?”

“Am I supposed to find you cheating on me cute and loving? What, does your little slut play nicer than mean ol’ me?”

“You’d been clawing at me long before that shit ever started! God, do you even hear yourself? Are you sure I’m the jealous one?”

“Oh yeah, I’m soooo jealous of your drugged up bar skank –”

“Alright, children, settle down! I can only write so fast,” Hyojin finally interrupts, notepad now resting on her thigh as she leans against the front of her desk. They both look surprised at her position, too wrapped up in their own squabble they hadn’t even looked in her direction. “And here I thought we wouldn’t get anywhere today, haha. Let’s back up a bit…now you both said you felt smothered by the other, and that made cheating a little easier for you, huh?”

Jongin’s mouth opens to defend himself, or maybe confirm that assumption, he’s not sure. His conscious kicks in, though, quickly tells him to shut up because she’s talking to Chanyeol, and stops him. He hasn’t said one word about what happened with Kyungsoo yet, and he’s looking a little less at fault for this entire mess, so he’s not gonna soil his good name yet. Especially not when Hyojin’s already seemingly on his side. It’s nice to hear of Chanyeol’s constant flippant façade of a personality from someone whose know him all his life. At least it’s not something he does just to fuck with Jongin’s head.

“Oh, please, make it sound more nonchalant, I’m begging you,” Chanyeol drags, chin propped up on his fist. “I never said it was easy for me to do.”

 _It was for me_ , Jongin thinks to say, then immediately decided not to, smirking instead. _Shut up, Jongin…_

“You didn’t, but it’s clearly part of how you dealt with not telling him until you got caught. You felt pressured by Jongin’s constant affection and presence to go out and find something anonymous and free of strings, something you could keep to yourself because you’re so used to not having a partner who cares enough for you. Flings are something you’re more comfortable with, so you gravitated towards something less stable. That combined with your addiction made it easier for you cheat on Jongin, despite having genuine feelings for him.” She flips the page on her notepad and points her pen at Jongin. “And you. It’s basically the same thing with you. Unreliable partners and flimsy relationships led you to almost automatic distrust of anyone you’re involved with, and eventually you became kind of desensitized to things a lot of people would call deal breakers - aloofness, adultery, etcetera. Your feelings for Chanyeol are masked in a strange array of possessiveness, pessimism, and atonement that fuels your hunger for intimacy and validation. You’re so familiar with being used and casted aside by people -like- Chanyeol that his behavior is tolerable, because he always comes back, that’s what makes him seem special or different. It makes perfect sense considering your ability to understand human nature and technicality when dealing with stressful information…have you ever considered a career in psychiatry?”

“You got all that from just listening to us argue for an hour?” Jongin asks, purposefully ignoring the question. No way was he about to waste more time at school to get the privilege of listening to rich people whine all day. He wasn’t _that_ understanding of human nature.

“Honey, give me another hour and I could profile that pretty little head of yours down to the color of your socks. In fact, I can guess you’re not even wearing any, am I right?”

She is.

“You’re lucky he’s even wearing shoes,” Chanyeol mumbles.

Jongin’s quickness to strike him again, this time slapping him in the chest with fully knowledge of it being bruised, sparks another question from Hyojin. “Jongin, how often would you say you physically express your emotions?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’ve only counted once that you’ve refrained from hitting Chanyeol just in the hour we’ve been sitting here. And even when you’re not hitting him you’re stroking his arm or leg…I’ve seen him scoot away twice and you got closer both times…”

Jongin looks down at his hand, fingers aimlessly rubbing against the seam of Chanyeol’s jeans, and jerks away. “I didn’t…I didn’t even know I was doing that…”

“You do it all the time,” Chanyeol confirms quietly.

“Well, touch is the literal key to intimacy,” Hyojin says from behind her pad. “It honestly doesn’t surprise me that it’s an involuntary action for you.”

“Why didn’t you say anything? I thought you hated when I touched you too much…”

“No! I don’t, I...I don’t really mind,” Chanyeol says, turning more towards Jongin and knocking their knees together. “I know that’s just how you are…”

“Ooo, and there’s that! You two, you literally bounce from being the most vindictive couple I’ve ever seen to showing such genuine understanding of each other.” She places her notepad to the side and hops up on her desk, crossing her legs. “You two are just fascinating, like two clichés bound to one another, an oversexed attention whore and an attention-weary sex addict, it’s kind of hilarious…well, to me at least,” she giggles, leaning back over her desk to grab her phone.

Jongin scrunches his nose. _Attention whore…really?_ And what kind of therapist actually laughs at her patients? Wow, she really is a lot like Chanyeol…maybe a little too much to be in this profession…

“But, your hour & a half is already waaay up,” she sighs while checking her still-perfect makeup in the reflection of her cellphone screen. “My next client will be in any second.”

“Thank God,” Chanyeol says as he stands up, adding a sarcastic smile. “Come on, Jongin.”

Chanyeol grabs his hand and pulls him up at the same time Hyojin grabs his other hand, leaving Jongin awkwardly stumbling in the middle of the couch and the desk.

“I’d love to talk with you one on one,” Hyojin half-whispers, slipping her card into his flannel pocket. “Shake the giant sometime, ‘kay, honey?” She winks and Chanyeol scoffs before squeezing his hand.

“ _Come on,_ Jongin,” he practically pleads, tugging his arm lightly.

Hyojin lets go of Jongin’s hand and Chanyeol escorts him through the lobby, down the stairs, out of the building, and all the way through the parking lot to the car before he finally lets him go.

“Jesus, what is your problem?”

“No way are you stepping foot inside that woman’s office without me, she’s bad enough when I’m there. I’m seriously confused as to why she hasn’t been sued for malpractice yet.”

It’s a declaration, a decision already made for him. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to consider it before being barred from it, and that pissed him off. He rolls his eyes, plopping down in the passenger seat. “I can see her if I want, Chanyeol. Besides, she was nice.”

“She’s a fucking quack.”

“Have some respect for once in your life.”

“Why should I? She’s never had any for me! If she wasn’t constantly analyzing everything I wouldn’t even be seeing her as much as I do! She acts like she’s doing my parents some kind of favor by shrinking my head every week, yet she can’t explain to them why I’m so fucked up. I just am, okay, there’s no fixing that. And there’s nothing wrong with you, anyway, what the fuck do you need to see her for?”

“There’s nothing wrong with me?” Jongin repeats. Chanyeol huffs and moves to start the ignition, but Jongin grabs his wrist. “I’m never that upset when you do things to hurt me –”

“I never meant to hurt you, Jongin, I swear –”

“Let me finish! Even if you didn’t mean to, the things you do _should_ hurt me, but I feel nothing most of the time. I honestly don’t even care that you…I mean, I care. But I’m not mad anymore. I only do and say things to piss you off and even when I’m not mad, I still want to see you hurt. I feel nothing and it _still_ makes me feel some kind joy to see you…in pain. Physically or emotionally. It makes feel better to torture you like that. You don’t think that sounds wrong?”

He doesn’t say anything, just stares back at Jongin with wide eyes, alarmed-looking but blank still, like he’s trying his hardest to hear the words while ignoring the subtext.

“I hurt you just as much as you hurt me. And sometimes I feel absolute nothing when you treat me the way you do, yet I still want to hurt you back. I’m wrong, too, Chanyeol, I’m just like you, I’m just as –”

Chanyeol moves suddenly, grabbing Jongin’s shoulders and shaking him. “Don’t. Don’t say that, you’re nothing like me, don’t ever say that.”

“It’s true!” Jongin yells back, “I’m just as bad!”

“No, you’re not! Stop saying that! We are nothing alike, you’re a much better person than me.”

“No, I’m not, I –!” Again, his conscious stop his confession in its tracks. _This is nowhere near the right time, he’s already worked up, not yet._ “I’m not a better person than you, Chanyeol, I’m just as bad in a different way, even Hyojin sees that!”

“This is exactly why I didn’t want you to meet her. She’s trained to get inside you head and make you feel fucked up so she can charge you a hundred bucks an hour to tell you sixty thousand ways to phrase how fucked up you are when there’s barely anything wrong with you in the first place! You got mad at me for a good reason and kicked my ass, so what?! That’s normal! You’re normal, Jongin! You’re nothing like me, you –”

He pauses when Jongin winces, closes his eyes and lightly grips at his arms, and finally realizes just how hard he’s squeezing his arms, that he’s been shaking him this whole time. Jongin just let him, didn’t try to push him off at all and the small movement of him whimpering, now caressing his arms instead of pushing him away…he wasn’t supposed to notice that. He relaxes his grip and feels his fingers tingle with the release of pressure and Jongin whines.

He opens his eyes, pulling himself closer on Chanyeol’s arms and presses their foreheads together. “Don’t…”

Chanyeol knows what he’s referring to, but loosens his grip even more on Jongin’s arms. He can see the reddened outline of his fingers against his skin, and it makes him want to pull away completely, but Jongin won’t let him.

Jongin bites his lip, intentionally holding his arms tighter in place. “Don’t let go…come on, I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Just…” He doesn’t finish the sentence, just tilts his chin up until he catches Chanyeol’s bottom lip between his own.

“Jongin,” Chanyeol grumbles against his mouth, still trying to pull away, “Jongin, stop.”

“I said I don’t want to talk anymore,” Jongin whispers rigidly. “You’re not gonna admit I’m just as wrong, so what’s the point? Just fucking kiss me, please.”

“We were just arguing, Jongin.”

“Yeah? And now I wanna fuck, what’s new? We’re not fucking normal, Chanyeol, _I’m_ not normal. So shut up and stop trying to act like we ever make sense. Stop trying to pretend I’m any better than you.”

Chanyeol doesn’t move back this time when Jongin kisses him, hard and determined, and keeps his hands on Jongin’s arms as he reaches up to cup his cheeks. He can’t honestly say this isn’t foreign to how they act. They fight, they say things other couples would hold against each other for days, months, and then it’s all forgotten in the heat of a kiss. All anger and frustration gone in a huff of air, a grunt, a moan, a release – like a puff of smoke, evaporated in seconds.

Jongin’s right. They aren’t normal. There’s nothing out-of-character about him suddenly tiring in the middle of an argument and changing the subject into one about sex. Apparently Hyojin’s dissection of their _fascinating_ relationship had gotten to him, because any other time he wouldn’t have second guessed Jongin’s actions. There wouldn’t have been a pause in-between him shouting and him clumsily pulling Jongin into his lap.

“You are too good for me,” Chanyeol says against Jongin’s neck, sucking in a breath when he feels fingernails under his shirt, snatching at his nipples.

“Am not,” Jongin snorts, rolling his hips up against Chanyeol’s chest. They truly didn’t have time for this, they were both due back at work over 20 minutes ago, but that’s never stopped them from fooling around before. “I’m horrible.”

“Maybe a little, but you’re still too good for me…you deserve so much better than m –”

“Ughhh, why do people keep saying that to me? What the fuck do they know? Literally everybody in the world deserves better than who they’re with. Everybody. But just because you _deserve_ better doesn’t mean you need or even _want_ better.”

“So you want to settle for worse?” Chanyeol inquires, pushing the collar of Jongin’s shirt out of his way with his nose as he nibbles along his clavicle. Jongin could say yes and he honestly wouldn’t mind. By being with Chanyeol that’s exactly what he’s doing. Whatever he may think is wrong with him still doesn’t compare to what he’s forced to deal with because of his choice in partners. So, he’s a bit sadistic, but that’s not something Chanyeol minds much. It’s true, he’s never complained about that, he has no idea why he implied it was a problem just a few minutes ago.

“No,” he answers, stroking gently through Chanyeol’s hair a few times before gripping it at the root and nudging his chin against the top of his head.

Chanyeol looks up at him, ruts up into Jongin’s body, making him gasp and laugh again, and reminds himself just how lucky he was to have the privilege of this gorgeous, oversexed attention whore punching him in the face a few days ago. Oh, and still loving him. That, too. “So what do you want, then?”

Jongin’s face softens into a neutral, unreadable expression, tightening his hold on the back of Chanyeol’s neck. “You,” he said quietly, lightly kissing his lips. “I want you…”

Jongin gladly takes the blame for them having to make a stop at home to change clothes before being decent enough to go to work. He offers to drive his own car but Chanyeol insists on dropping him off since he gets off before him tonight. He somewhat implies he wants to go out or something afterwards, but that’s too much of a romantic gesture for him to outright say it. Jongin ends up deciding where they’ll get dinner tonight, complaining of being tired of cooking for some ungrateful bastard. Chanyeol reminds him that ungrateful bastard lets him come first most of the time, and Jongin retorts by calling him a selfish, ungrateful bastard who should learn how to take a dick more than once a month.

Chanyeol parks when they get to the mall and enters through the employee entrance with him under the premise of having a bone to pick with Sehun. Probably to chew him out about kissing Jongin in the stock room, that’s something he did let slip at their session this morning. Chanyeol didn’t seem too upset by it at the time, but Jongin leaves him to it while he goes to clock in, not thinking much of it.

When he emerges from the back of the store having survived a vicious tongue lashing from Joonmyun, he joins Sunyoung and Henry at the registers. They’re both trying to quietly giggle as they watch Chanyeol bitch at Sehun near the front of the store. It’s easy to see Sehun’s some form of intoxicated, his eyes are half closed and he’s got this shit-eating grin on his face, but Chanyeol just keeps up his verbal assault & poking Sehun’s chest whenever he gets distracted and looks away. Which is a lot.

Finally Chanyeol just childishly jumps at him like he’s going to tackle him and Sehun stumbles backward into a display table. Everyone pretends to look away when they both turn towards the chuckles at the registers, except for Jongin, who makes a shooing motion at Chanyeol.

Chanyeol begins to leave, with Sehun now sitting on the floor and laughing hysterically, and literally runs into Kyungsoo as he walking in.

Jongin’s heart jumps into his throat. _Oh fuck, please just keep walking,_ he thinks loudly, but they both do the exact opposite. They just stand there, staring bug-eyed at each other, then Chanyeol suddenly animates, booming voice making the question _“what the hell are you doing here?”_ reach everyone’s ears, followed by Kyungsoo screaming back, _“I work here, dipshit!”_ Chanyeol turns his head and makes eye contact with Jongin, panic expression evident, then somewhat frantically pushes Kyungsoo back outside the store.

At the edge of the display glass Jongin can see both of them peek around the corner, then turn back quickly when they see he’s still looking. _What the fuck?_

The second time only Chanyeol looks, and Jongin pretends to busy himself at a rack. As soon as he turns back to Kyungsoo, Jongin moves closer to the door, feeling extremely silly as he hides behind a trio of mannequins, but he could almost hear everything they’re saying, so he’ll get over it. _Do they know each other? What the hell is going on?_

_“…is this a joke? You haven’t……ignoring me……….…you serious?!”_

_“Oh my god, get over yourself, Chanyeol…I didn’t know he wor………your fault.”_

_“So you just happened t……….with my boyfriend?!”_

_“Why are we even……..fucking dumb.”_

_“Whatever….get…I don’t have time for that! Or you!”_

Okay, so not only does Jongin feel like an idiot kneeling beside a bunch of jeggings, but hopelessly confused and lost as he tries to follow the muffled conversation. The only half-of-a-sentence he clearly heard and understood completely was the last thing Chanyeol said before they stomped off together. If they’d stayed and argued more, Jongin doesn’t believe he would have heard a word more, anyway. Because the heat in his chest was spreading up to his face, and it was as if the realization was burning hot like inflamed embers between his ears and all he could hear was crackling of perishing wood.

_“Fine, I don’t…just know that…………if you didn’t leave your stupid sweater in my car.”_


	8. Promises Over Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyungsoo can't tell who he wishes he never met more - Chanyeol or Jongin.
> 
> Meanwhile, Chanyeol's best apologies are always subliminal, while Jongin's best revenge is always meticulous.

"He saw us. He fucking saw us."

"How do you know for sure he saw you?"

"I _saw_ him!" Kyungsoo yells, stopping short in front of Yixing, sitting cross-legged in front of the couch. "He was looking right at us!" He waits for Yixing to offer something else, watches the smoke rise from the lit cigarette near his lips, but he only blinks up at him slowly, so Kyungsoo continues the rapid pacing around the living room he’d been at for the last twenty minutes.

To his surprise, he hears Yixing speak up again when he’s starting another lap to the kitchen, walking from the sink to the stove and back over and over again. “Calm down, Satan, it’s okay…I mean, you _saw_ him seeing you, but are you definitely sure he **_saw_** y -”

"He saw them, Xing," Jongdae snaps from above him, laid out on the couch behind him. “We’ve already established that fact, stop beating around the fucking bush, shit." Jongdae pulls Yixing’s hand back over his head, accidentally dropping a piece of ash on the boy’s lap as he snatched the cigarette and put it to his lips. "But yeah, you do need to calm down," he agrees after taking a drag.

"I can’t, I just can’t. Jongin fucking hates me and I can’t even blame him."

Okay, he’s exaggerating a bit. Maybe Jongin doesn’t hate him, and maybe he doesn’t actually know exactly what went down with him and Chanyeol, but he’d been cold enough at work for him to get a bit of a hint. He blandly apologized for the inconvenience it might have been to even talk to Chanyeol when he came back from throwing that God-awful sweater in the trunk of his car, but he only said he hoped Chanyeol didn’t bother him. The way he said it implied malice he prayed was directed at the other person in question, but it was the last thing Jongin said to him all day.

Well that, and a very stern “Stop! Just don’t bother, I got it” when he offered to help him with a box he’d dropped on the way back to the stock room.

He sighs, deflating into himself for a second before starting to pace again. _Yeah, he fucking hates me._ Jongin’s odd joke about maybe being a homicidal psychopath now scares him a lot more than it excited him.

"Why? Because you had sex with his boyfriend?" Yixing asks, taking the cigarette back from Jongdae and holding it out to Kyungsoo as he passes by again.

He sputters tiredly, taking the perfectly rolled cigarette and putting the filter to his lips instead of answering Yixing’s oblivious question ( _he never knew the whole story anyway, it’d be best not to confuse him_ ).

Jongdae, on the other hand, was more than willing to fill him in. “Yeah, multiple times for like, half the year, Yixing. They were having a legit affair AND he knew Chanyeol had a boyfriend the whole t –”

"Thanks Dae," Kyungsoo interrupts, breathing in another puff of smoke and finally realizing there is no filter where there should be, this isn’t tobacco, and Yixing has gotten pretty good at rolling his own joints.

"…and then he almost fucked the boyfriend, too! In their house! Can you belie –”

" **Thanks, Dae** ," Kyungsoo bites, cutting him off again and pushing the blunt into his face. "That’s enough."

"I was just trying to catch him up…seriously, you gotta chill out, though."

Kyungsoo scoffs, wondering if he’d just heard him say he can’t do that, he can’t just chill out, he can’t calm himself and it bothers him greatly that he can’t. He hasn’t been this shaken in a while, feeling guilty about being caught in his wrongdoing. The last time he remembers feeling like this was when he pawned a gold watch given to him by his grandmother for booze money when was seventeen. He still doesn’t know how she eventually found out, and not even buying it back erased the memory of her disappointed face.

And that’s all that’s on his mind right now – Jongin’s face. That unsettling grimace that was aimed at him and anybody else who crossed his path throughout the day. Those perfect, pouty lips flattened into a tight line coupled with blank eyes and a heartbreakingly monotone voice. He hated Jongin’s then-mystery boyfriend for putting that expression on his face and now he’s the one who feels responsible for it.

"Unless you had ‘I have most definitely fucked the guy I’m talking to right now’ stamped on your forehead when you ran into Chanyeol, you’ve got nothing to worry about,” Jongdae reassures.

Kyungsoo knows Jongdae is right ( _of course he’s fucking right, he’s always right_ ), but the knowledge brings him no comfort. Plus, it can’t be that simple. Jongin’s nowhere near that dumb.

He collapses onto the floor, barely feeling the hard drop on his knees, and leans his head against Yixing’s shoulder. The numbness in his limbs still didn’t compare to the heaviest of his mind. Of all the people he could have gotten involved with, of all the people he’s come into contact with, it just HAD to be those two. Bad luck doesn’t even begin to describe this situation. He liked it better when he didn’t care too much, when he could forget everything with a handful of pills and a swig of beer, but it wasn’t working as well as it usually does. Maybe going cold turkey for two months was enough to restore his conscious and morality. He’d take more if he didn’t have to be at least 50% sober at work tonight, then he can spend all of Tuesday peacefully enduring his hangover and hating himself some more.

At the rate that Jongdae’s trading shifts with him he’s practically coming up with 2/3 of the rent on his own, but he could use some mindless pop music and flashing lights to distract himself. It’d be active but not awfully busy tonight, with it only being Monday. He’d see the 20-something year old college kids he knows will be skipping their morning classes, their 40-something year old sugar daddies, the strung out 30 something’s who convinced themselves they were only coming in for one drink and can’t they believe they’re now drunk in a gay bar this early in the week. Even that diverse of a group is still pretty small in numbers for Phoenix, but big enough in personality to keep him alert during his shift. During weekdays the go-go boys usually worked the dance floor more than the cages, sometimes even danced on the bar if there was room, so there’s plenty to keep his attention, it’s not like he’d be short of entertainment.

And of course he’d ignore that damning feeling that he’s waiting on something. Waiting for someone to drag him away and ravish him with husky breaths and sweet compliments about what an obedient little fuck toy he is. He’ll act as if he’s not expecting it to be a certain someone, a certain voice he really wanted out of his head. A certain someone he was so convinced he’d be able to forget easily, but somehow ended up more involved with by pure coincidence. He’ll wait for that feeling to pass, maybe drown it with something that’ll occupy his brain with remembering how to form coherent sentences and putting one foot in front of the other. He’ll wait for the longing to fade away and stop pestering him.

But it won’t.

And before he knows it he’ll be scanning the room for that blonde, muscly foreigner that offered to buy him a drink in broken Korean and stealing him away from whoever he was dancing with. He’ll pretend to laugh at some gross little fetishy things he says as he pushes his way around his clothing, exposes bits of skin to cold air and warm lips. He’ll make do with what he gets and convince himself he’s not wishing it was a certain someone else.

Or that certain someone else’s boyfriend.

Fuck, he couldn’t even control which one his brain morphed the man behind him into…

And as satisfying as the encounter was overall, he declined the man’s polite invitation to come back to his hotel. The man grabs for him, promising to make it completely worth his while, and Kyungsoo jumps away as if the hands that were pleasuring him greatly just a few minutes ago were now on fire. The man doesn’t seem to fully understand, probably assuming he was being playful, and ends up with an elbow to the ribs when he unexpectedly wraps his arms around Kyungsoo’s torso. Apparently the Korean word for “no thanks” sounds similar to the French phrase for “convince me.” Or at least he thinks he was speaking French… _Italian, maybe? German? Whatever._ He doesn’t really care. The blonde apologizes for the ‘misunderstanding’ over and over as Kyungsoo gets redressed as far away as he can from him, on the opposite side of the room with the black leather couch separating them. The man leaves first, grunting as Kyungsoo ignores his attempts at conversation and flipping the curtain open quite dramatically. The childishness is pretty unbecoming of a man of his stature, and it makes Kyungsoo chuckle a bit, shaking his head as he pushes his hair back into its presentably messy state.

He fetches the spray bottle of disinfectant and cloth from behind the couch and begins wiping down the dirtied areas – the wet spot on the glass table indicates they weren’t the only people in this room tonight… _ew_ – before perching himself on the flat arm of the couch and burying his head in his hands.

Thinking on the brightside of things, he realizes he can still have spontaneous, strings-free sex without emotions involved. That beloved aspect of his personality is still intact, untouched and absent of nuisance. He smiles as he realizes he couldn’t even remember the man’s name…mostly because his mind was juggling between not calling him Chanyeol and not calling him Jongin, but that’s beside the point.

Those two…God, he wishes he’d never gotten involved with either one of them. If he could scrub the memory of them completely from his brain, he would.

It’s not really his regret he’s angry about, _it’s the fact that he’s actually regretful._ He’s always been good at accepting his mistakes and moving on quickly, maybe too quickly sometimes, but things like this don’t normally weigh on his conscious so much. Usually he'd be cackling with Jongdae about something like this – I mean, this shit is literally ridiculous – but he can’t shake this off. It means something to him.

Jongin means something to him.

And so does Chanyeol. Apparently.

He likes him. _Both hims. Both of them. I like them…shit._

It was easy to come to this conclusion when it came to Jongin. He’s had this juvenile crush on him from the day they met, something he thought he could minimized into something purely physical. But Jongin was intoxicating in more than lustfulness and sex appeal. He was exhaustingly attractive in every aspect of himself. Jongin wasn’t the naïve little sweetheart he put himself out to be. He wasn’t the unabashed sex kitten he was a few days ago either. Or the abrasive ass he acts like around their coworkers. He didn’t know who the fuck Jongin was, but he liked him all the same. It was obvious he knew how to read people and perform to whatever degree the situation stood for, he was a lot more intuitive than people seemed to notice. There’s been this constant switching of expression Kyungsoo’s picked up on immediately, from the way he chose to speak to the way he walked. He carried himself in a different way, not for individual people, but for individual moods, and not all were an appropriate response to what was happening, just an appropriate way to sway the conversation in his favor. It’s that kind of master manipulation that made him feel extremely thickheaded for not recognizing the similarities between him and Chanyeol’s aloof boyfriend he’d heard about through random slips of friendly conversation…

 _"It’s like he’s a different person every day,"_ he hears a deep voice repeat in his head. _"One day he’s mad, the next he doesn’t care, one day he’s loving, the next day he’s screaming at me – there’s barely any constancy in his attitude…"_

The undeniable déjà vu he felt as Jongin used almost the exact same words to describe his then-mystery boyfriend to Kyungsoo after he overheard him yelling over the phone at him finally made sense. He only knew one person that flippant and selfish _before_ he met Jongin…

It’s tragically annoying how meant for each other those two seem to be.

They’re exactly alike, at the most they just lie for different reasons. Jongin lies for performance. He’s played so many roles with Kyungsoo as his audience, he’s made it impossible to pin down who Jongin is before he makes himself unpredictable. And when he doesn’t lie, he’s raw and visibly uncomfortable, out of his element and it never lasts long. He claimed he was a completely uninteresting person the night they had dinner, as if he could sense Kyungsoo wasn’t used to ‘normal,’ so he decided not to be. He played naïve, sex God, and innocent shy boy all in a few hours, yet pulled off the personalities effortlessly and somehow genuinely. Jongin was a clumsy mess of costumes Kyungsoo honestly wouldn’t mind getting buried in.

When it comes to Chanyeol, he mostly lies for privacy. He once told Kyungsoo that he was so used to being spoiled, having certain things to himself and only to himself. He said he felt that way about him, that he wanted Kyungsoo to be something he had to himself, because Jongin had traded in all his “I’s” for “we’s.” Kyungsoo said he sounded regretful, like Jongin had taken his individuality and trapped him in some way. Chanyeol reassured him he wasn’t trapped at all, or at least not trapped against his will **_by_** Jongin. Hearing the same guy who just came balls deep down his throat violently claim and defend his relationship from any criticism both confused and angered Kyungsoo.

_“So if you love him so much why the fuck are you here with me? What’s keeping you with him?”_

He honestly feels ashamed of how painfully jealous he sounded at the time. It had to be the most vulnerable he’s ever let himself be in front of Chanyeol, in a situation like this. Because he **_was_** jealous, and he wanted so badly not to be. It made no sense to him that he even felt like that…felt…attached to another person. Something about the way Chanyeol spoke of Jongin made him feel jealous, jealous of the way Chanyeol seemed so smitten with him while he was completely in love with Jongin.

And maybe he still was jealous, because no matter what, they still had each other. Maybe he was still jealous someone was always waiting on him to return while he always ended up alone. Jealous that Chanyeol had someone who cared about him more, someone who wanted more than just his kiss, his touch, someone who could tolerate his presence. Someone who’d been making their possessiveness known in love letters across Chanyeol’s skin all the while. Marks Kyungsoo answered intentionally with angrier scratches.

He was jealous because he liked – likes? – Chanyeol. As much as he wanted to treat Chanyeol like all of his other disposable toys, he was…different. And only because Jongin made him different _._ Made him special, made him something desirable and even before Kyungsoo knew Jongin was Jongin he was attracting him _through_ the way he had Chanyeol, in all the ways Kyungsoo couldn’t have him. Chanyeol had someone who wanted every aspect of him, good and bad. It makes no fucking sense how jealous that makes him feel…

Or at least he _would_ feel jealous and ashamed and guilty and thick headed and all those other disgusting emotions if he could feel anything right now.

A slap across his face startles him out of his thoughts. His blurry vision focuses for a second to reveal Jonghyun’s face to him, purple and yellow lights blanketing his being over Kyungsoo. "Jesus Christ, dude, you scared the fuck out of me!"

Apparently he’d been missing from the bar too long, causing Jonghyun to come looking for him, and he found him sitting unresponsive on the arm of the couch, staring blankly at the floor. _Holy shit, maybe the drugs are still working…_

But now his mind has so much more to think about, and no matter what he tries to occupy his thoughts with, it all constantly comes back to _those two._

Jongin. Chanyeol.

Chanyeol. Jongin.

Jongin _and_ Chanyeol, Chanyeol **_and_** Jongin.

God, he really does wish he’d never met either of them. He really, really does…

Because nothing good ever comes for him _liking_ anyone.

__________________________________________________________________________________

Jongin’s silence is worrying Chanyeol a lot more than it usually does. He’s barely said a word since Chanyeol picked him up from work, only offering soft smiles and nods in response to everything he said at dinner. Any other time he’d at least offer an ‘uh huh’ or ‘hmm’ every few minutes even if he was angry, but tonight he’s only been speaking as much as needed. It turns out that isn’t much, so Chanyeol fills the air with any random happenings at work, realizing that’s pretty much the only thing Jongin’s separated from in his daily routine. He peaked up from the guitar in his lap every few minutes and sat up from his position against the headboard, just to see if Jongin’s even still in the room.

He is, lying on his stomach across the foot of the bed, still flipping through the magazine he’s had his nose stuck in since they got home.

Chanyeol watches him until he finally looks up, curious and appearing interested in why Chanyeol stopped talking, so he continues with his story of how Baekhyun threw a hissy fit over a picky eating group of vegans who came to the restaurant today. He attempts to imitate the boy’s shrill yelling voice, strumming random chords as he talks. When he feel the weight on the bed shift slowly, he looks up again to see Jongin now kneeling in-between his outstretched legs, hand across the neck of Chanyeol’s guitar and stopping all sound vibrating from the instrument.

“What? What’s wrong?” Chanyeol asks, watching Jongin play with the baggy sleeves of the jacket he’s wearing, lazily shaking them so his hands are visible and the material’s out of the way. Its Chanyeol’s jacket, of course, hanging loosely around his shoulders and exposing his collarbones. The black boxer briefs he’s wearing disappear under a pool of dark green camouflage when he moves closer, sitting back on his heels. A bit of his hair is visible from under the floppy hood, falling over his tired eyes as he stares down at where Chanyeol’s hands have stopped on the fret board.

“Why’d you pick him?” Jongin inquires quietly, tracing his fingers down the B string and plucking it when his hand meets Chanyeol’s over the sound hole.

Chanyeol’s heart stops for a second or two. The first because he wasn’t really expecting Jongin to speak, only shake his head like he did earlier when he asked the same question. The second because he’d failed miserably at looking unsuspicious while talking to the _him_ in question, and he still didn’t know if he should play clueless or start begging for forgiveness. He tries to do a better job of hiding how he gulps by tucking his chin down and staying silent.

“What was it about the guy you were seeing?” Jongin continues, this question even quieter than the first, still not looking up at Chanyeol. He mimics the movement he’d watched Chanyeol play all night, only slightly ghosting over the strings “What did you like so much about him?”

He’s still not sure if Jongin’s aware of exactly who he’s talking about, so he decides to do as little exposing as he can. “He…he reminded me a lot of you…” It’s not a lie, but he still feels the residue of guilt on his tongue.

Jongin’s eyes flicker up quickly. “Is that all?” His hand has moved to lazily rubbing Chanyeol’s knee, the other pulled up to his mouth, teeth gently nibbling at the sleeve.

Chanyeol recognizes this behavior, the innocent air of it all, and he knows Jongin’s most likely going to remain unsettling calm throughout the entire conversation, then either explode or shut down after. It’s basically his cutesy calm before the storm, and Chanyeol’s never that prepared for it, even when he realizes it’s coming.

"Did he do something I didn’t?" Jongin asks, now perfectly strumming the same melody Chanyeol was with the help of his fingers still in the correct placement.

"What? No, no," Chanyeol sputters, pulling the guitar out of his lap.

Jongin immediately scoots forward again, fitting into the free space between Chanyeol’s thighs perfectly and looking down at his lap. Hand still against his mouth, he tugs at the sleeve again with his teeth, and places the hand that was formerly on the guitar gently on Chanyeol’s chest.

Chanyeol sighs, bringing his hands under the jacket and holding Jongin by his hips, thumbs rubbing against the edge of the boxers underneath.

They’ve had this conversation before, and Chanyeol hoped they’d never have it again. Then, it was a hypothetical, presented playfully after they’d invited another into their bedroom. Jongin’s ex, a tanned, toned beauty whose name escapes him now, but he had a smile that would take a lot of effort to forget. Chanyeol may have enjoyed his company a little too much, though, because Jongin antagonized him about it for days after. He teased at feelings of being neglected during the encounter, and even after admitting it was just slips of insecurity he had in himself, not their relationship, Chanyeol never really forgot the way it seemed to affect him. They haven’t asked anyone, stranger or otherwise, to come home with them since.

"Jongin," Chanyeol says, bringing one of his hands up to grip his chin.

"Are you sure?" Jongin asks, voice a little louder as he flinches away from Chanyeol’s touch slightly. "That he just reminded you of me?"

"I swear," Chanyeol says. Solemnly, because he knows any other tone would make it sound more like a lie, like an excuse. Jongin’s eyes find his again, and his breath catches in his throat as they lock despite him urging Jongin to look at him in the first place. He’s almost afraid he’s going to smack his hand away, but all he does is stare back blankly. It definitely hits him how idiotic and selfish his answer sounds; almost as idiotic and selfish as everything he thinks is. _I needed another you, away from you, outside of us,_ and he can’t even figure out how he’d verbalize that kind of reasoning.

Jongin drops the hand from his mouth, moistened cloth of the sleeve landing on Chanyeol’s wrist as he grips his forearm. “So what was it? Was he cuter than me or something?” he asks, voice now broad, at his normal volume, and the smirk threatening to appear at the edge of his lips calms Chanyeol greatly.

"No, baby," he smiles, cupping the side of Jongin’s face. "No one in the world is cuter than you."

"Ewww, shut up," Jongin chuckles, averting his eyes back down to their laps. "You’re so gross."

"You like it."

Jongin pinches Chanyeol’s side through his tank top, knowing it’s exactly where his fist had bruised him a days ago. Chanyeol only winces a bit, but it makes him feel a little better anyway. “I know.”

Chanyeol brings his forehead to Jongin’s softly, closes his eyes because he doesn’t think he can speak the words any other way. Plus, he can’t stand to watch Jongin’s face fall as he kills whatever mood they might have been setting. “I’m sorry, Jongin…I really, really am.”

"I know you are…you’re a sorry piece of shit."

Chanyeol nods, because it’s not like he can say that isn’t true.

"But you’re my sorry piece of shit…and I love you, unfortunately."  

“I love you, too. Unfortunately.”

"And by the way, if you ever fuck around behind my back again, I’ll crush your balls with the waffle iron," Jongin promises, placing a small peck to the top of Chanyeol’s smiling mouth.

Chanyeol’s smile falls a little, but not too much. “Mmm, sounds kinky,” he laughs, returning the peck before Jongin begins moving off the bed, much to Chanyeol’s grabbing protests.

"Stop, let go!" Jongin laughs, swatting Chanyeol’s hands away from his ass as he walks around the bed and to the door. He walks into the kitchen and turns on his coffee maker, turning his creamer carousel a few times before his grin flattens. He hears Chanyeol’s guitar start up again and finds himself walking, quite slowly, back towards the bedroom, instead of waiting for the blue READY light on the front of the machine to stop blinking like he usually does. Before he makes it to the door he stops near the couch, runs his fingers over the smooth arm of the upholstery and reminisces about the person he had laid across it with every intention of defiling a few days ago. It makes his stomach tight, the thought of how close he was to doing just that…and how badly he still wanted to. But not as the same hastily planned revenge fuck he honestly had no interest in going through with anymore.

Now it was pure curiosity.

Kyungsoo was nothing like he expected him to be. He wasn’t some naïve, pliable little twink Chanyeol was pulling the strings over. He wasn’t the completely harmless plaything he envisioned his boyfriend’s lover to be. He was someone Jongin could understand Chanyeol being tempted by. Hell, he was tempted greatly himself, so he knew firsthand. Maybe he assumed Chanyeol was a little too easy to persuade, that it didn’t take much to make him stray away. It’s not as if he didn’t believe Chanyeol when he explained how their affair began, it’s just he didn’t completely buy all of his story.

Knowing of Kyungsoo now…he does. Fully. Kyungsoo was right there, willing and waiting to pick Jongin up when he was down…and apparently he did the same for Chanyeol. And as much as it annoys him to admit…maybe Chanyeol wasn’t completely to blame for his indiscretion. Mostly, but not completely. When Jongin was dangled the same bait, he took it just as quickly, and he took it out of spite.

It’s that, and that only, that brings Jongin back to the door of the bedroom. He leans against the wooden frame and watches Chanyeol expertly plucking the strings of his guitar to the tune of [_Talk Show Host_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wtItdqxHZYA), one of Jongin’s favorite songs. He’d been playing it all night, obviously begging for Jongin to interact with him somehow, sing the words with him like he usually does, but he didn’t bother tonight. A minuscule punishment.

Chanyeol stops playing when he finally notices Jongin standing there, given away by his sudden humming. Jongin cuts him off as he fixes his mouth to ask “ _what?”_

"I’m sorry, too," he says, rubbing his arm with his eyes to the ground.

"For what?" Chanyeol asks softly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Just know I’m sorry, too," he answers, and just as Chanyeol starts talking again, the coffee maker sounds off and Jongin slips away immediately. He pretends not to hear Chanyeol ask him twice what the hell that’s supposed to mean as he pours in a considerable amount of sugar into his mug and turns back to his creamer carousel, waiting for cup to fill with steaming hot water and dissolve it. Something tells him he’s going to be back in this same position in a few hours too, despite having to work in the morning, because he’s got way too much to think about tonight…

Starting with what’s so damn special about Kyungsoo, and the completely weird, some-what-fucked-up-but-so-like-him way he’s planning on finding out…

_______________________________________________________________________

Kyungsoo wakes up sometime after noon the next day with a crick in his neck, a splitting headache, and Yixing’s heavy ass arm slung over his waist.

He can’t remember how he even managed to get home, but the sound of the disturbed material of a windbreaker as he moves out of Yixing’s grip tells him he probably drove Jongdae’s car to Phoenix to pick him up. He sits up from what he expected to be his bed, but realizes it’s actually the floor _next_ to his bed, and sighs heavily as he rubs his temples. Taking tequila shots with Jonghyun was obviously not a good way to celebrate getting laid, because it’s the last thing he can remember doing before waking up just now.

He drags himself onto his bed where he finds his phone and wallet tossed on his coat, thank God. Why he chose to lay down next to Yixing on the floor definitely escapes him, but he just logs that away as one of the questions he’d ask later. He looks around for a bit to give his eyes a chance to fully adjust to daylight before exposing them to the artificial light of his phone screen. He expects a panicked call or two from Joonmyun as he remembers he was supposed to work today, but apparently he’d drunkenly convinced Henry to take his shift last night before leaving for work. He reads through the texts a few times, surprised at the coherence of the sentences. His side of the conversation sounds painfully professional, so he’s sure to shoot him a quick _“thnks again dude, i owe u 1”_ just to make it a little more friendly and casual. He gets a response of _“no problem :)”_ within 5 minutes that breaks any odd feelings he had about the exchange.

The rest of the day seems to split into increments of time more so than actual lived events. At 4 PM he finally gets Yixing up and off his floor after about two hours of bickering, being forced to listen to his excuse for not being able to leave the whole time. To his defense, Kyungsoo doesn’t think he could take Tao and his boyfriend baby-talking each other for more than a few minutes, let alone the whole weekend. He grants mercy on Yixing with his promise to treat them all to breakfast in the morning when they get off of work. He decides the extra company is worth early morning pancakes and sausage.

Jongdae invites/persuades/forces him to railroad amaretto vodka shots and chase them with expresso at around 6 PM, which he finds out creates a pretty nice buzz, after the vomiting. Or maybe he just took too many. He can only remember repeating the process three or four times. It didn’t really matter, because he knew it’s easier to be shitfaced hours before work then to get trashed there. By the time he gets there his body is always at a pretty good standing, between crashing and sober, which makes it pretty easy to go about his routines. Or at least he hopes that’s what’s going to happen. He’s definitely done the research, but he’s been so off about everything who knows if that’s even true anymore.

At 9 PM, Yixing is the least intoxicated person in the room (and ironically the best driver out of the three), so he takes the wheel. Jongdae cup-checks Kyungsoo for the passenger seat, which sticks him in the backseat alone. Or at least he is alone, for about 10 minutes while they wait for the lovebirds to descend from the nest. Sehun only offers a cheerful _“well, hello stranger!”_ before putting his mouth back on the job of sucking the skin off Tao’s throat. Kyungsoo’s pretty sure they both forgot he was even in the same car as them and Jongdae kept chucking balled up receipts at them in an attempt to ruin their fun. It barely works.

Kyungsoo nearly jumps out of the car when they park, because _holy shit, those two are disgusting._ Yixing wasn’t joking about them being grossly affectionate. Being that close to all that made him feel like bathing in bleach. Until he accidentally imagines the overly affectionate couple as two people he’s been trying his hardest to forget about for the last two days. Then it’s not so bad.

What is so bad is how this transmutes into a series of random thoughts, disgustingly intimate thoughts, of _those two,_ but not in the way that’s expected. Usually romantic fantasies include the object of your affection and you, but Kyungsoo was nowhere to be found in these fantasies – it was just…those two. Because as much bad they confessed to Kyungsoo about each other, they shared just as much good. Cute stories of their meals together, late nights they stayed up talking, things he never wanted to hear about and pretended to gag when they were told to him, because sometimes monogamy just kind of makes him sick. Yet here he was thinking extensively about it…and it didn’t even include him.

Monogamy jaded him for reasons he’s still not ready or detoxed enough to deal with, so much so he can’t even imagine it for himself.

Because with both of _those two_ , even while literally under both of them, their feelings for the other still shined through to him. Sometimes dully, in expressions and word choice, and then brightly at other times. Obnoxiously bright, and then he’d have to watch them reign in their emotions and get back to fulfilling the task at hand (that task being him).

He was so used to that, to see that moral switch in a person’s head go off after being with him. It was like he was a bit of a divining rod – pun intended – for committed people. When they did decide to stray from their loved ones or even their responsibilities, Kyungsoo was the kind of person they reached out to. He’s the kind of person that’s always there, maybe not emotionally, but physically. Sometimes people just need an outside source of attention, someone separated from their daily circle of interactions, and he provided that for both Chanyeol and Jongin. It was just his luck he was unintentionally put in the middle of all their already odd relationship. It wasn’t how he meant for it to happen, but that’s how it is – he’s pretty much just another thing they have in common.

 _A thing._ He just called himself a thing. An object, a distraction, a symbol of misguided lust. That’s what he just described himself as… _oh my God, how low can my self-esteem get?! That’s got to be the dumbest thing I’ve ever thought…Jesus fucking Christ, I need another_ –

"Drink?" he suddenly hears a voice in front of him say, and the lights and music and overwhelming smell of smoke and alcohol all comes rushing back to him, reminding him where he was.

"What?" Kyungsoo retorts, keeping his eyes down at the beer taps he’d probably been staring at while stuck in his dehumanizing thoughts. He’s a little embarrassed because he’s been able to work while thinking he’s the worst person ever before, but tonight he was more than off his game. He had barely registered anyone’s presence at the bar, having watched most of the people waiting for drinks saunter off as some song by Lady Gaga started blaring.

"I said, aren’t you gonna make me a drink? I mean, that is what you do, right?"

Recognizing the voice makes him not even want to raise his head completely. He only looks up at the person’s hands, placed on the bar top with threaded fingers. The silver band adorning their middle finger just further confirms their identity, and now he really, really doesn’t want to look up. He only remembers seeing that ring once before, upside down, walking up his arm, then sliding up his torso and disappearing under his disheveled clothes.

"Kyungsoo," the person says. Sternly, it’s not a question.

They’re smiling as Kyungsoo’s eyes pop up, and as badly as he doesn’t want to return the grin, the corner of his mouth rises as he finally chokes out “oh, right, uhh…what would you like?”

"Hmm…how about a Long Beach Cocktail…and a chance to apologize?"

"Apologize?" Kyungsoo asks as he begins pulling ingredients from the liquor racks behind him, knowing the placement of the gin, tequila, and vodka by heart. "What would you have to apologize for?" He asks, searching for the rum he’d misplaced.

"Biting your head off at work yesterday, I’m really sorry.”

"It’s okay, you don’t have to –”

"Yeah, I do. I was in a pissy mood and I took it out on everyone else…I usually don’t do that."

When Kyungsoo looks back up, shaker in hand, the smile on their face has turned to sympathetic frown of sorts. “It’s okay, Jongin, really. We all have our moments,” he soothes, pouring the softly shaken drink back over the ice and placing the glass onto the napkin in front of him.

"I was going to talk to you at work today, but…" Jongin trails off, stirring his drink with the straw before taking a sip. He looks up at Kyungsoo as he waits for him to finish the sentence.

"I called in, right. Sorry, I just had such a major hangover and – ” He stops, seeing Sehun pat Jongin’s shoulder as he passes by, empty martini glass between his teeth. "Shit, please don’t tell Joonmyun what an unreliable drunk I am." He kind of forgot their boss is a little more than just _their boss_ to Jongin.

Jongin erupts into laughter, slapping his hand down on the bar a few times. “Don’t worry, I won’t, hahaha. Your secret’s safe with me,” he says, raising the glass to his lips and winking.

Kyungsoo doesn’t think his word choice could be any worse. He changes the subject before it sets in with him any more than it already has. “So, what brings you out on a freakin’ Tuesday?” he asks playfully. “Don’t you have a life of something?”

"Not really, no," Jongin retorts in the same tone. "I don’t know, I just got the certain urge to go somewhere new, and seeing as how you weren’t at work, this place was kinda on my mind."

"Oh, so you were thinking about me?" he smirks, making eye contact with a woman waving two empty shot glasses at the end of the bar. He quickly gathers the few things needed to prepare five more Chocolate Cake Shots for her and the table of single ladies she’s been nursing all night. Jongin sits their smiling silently, and Kyungsoo can’t resist take a few peaks at him through his eyelashes as he poured the vodka over the hazelnut liqueur in perfectly timed tilts. He has no idea why he’d even tried to convince himself he wasn’t going to continue this asinine crush on Jongin. It was easy to say he wishes he’d never met him when he was absolutely sure Jongin hated his guts, but judging by the look on Jongin’s face, he thinks it’s safe to say that’s not the case.

"I mean, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t," Jongin admits, watching Kyungsoo diligently completing the sugary rim and lemon garnish on each shot glass. "And besides," he pauses, making sure Kyungsoo is halfway down the bar and just slightly out of earshot before continuing, "I still have a promise to fulfill…"

"What was that?" Kyungsoo asks, making his way back down to Jongin after passing the drinks on to a waitress’ tray.

Jongin laughs shortly and drops his head, biting his bottom lip before answering. “You made me promise to take a few days to think about it,” Jongin says matter-of-factly. “And I’m done thinking.”

Kyungsoo pretends to not know exactly what promise Jongin is talking about for a few seconds, completing his bad acting with a stroke of his chin and an inflammatory sound of realization. “So…?” He wants to ask what he decided, as if his decision wasn’t made obvious by the way he’s narrowing his eyes at him or him just being there, having tracked him down.

"So…what time does your shift end?”


	9. Anniversary Atonement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jongin always gets what he wants; luckily for him, it's usually what everyone else wants, too.

Chanyeol didn’t find it bothersome when Jongin randomly starts texting him while he was at work. They rarely communicate through texts, so he has to recheck the contact above the message when it pops up on his phone. Part of him is still pretty sure Jongin thinks he’s forgotten that today’s their anniversary, and he keeps up the rouse of him not finding anything “special” about today’s date. He expects him Jongin to get annoyed and bitchy as he continues pretending he has no idea what’s so significant about the date. Instead, the opposite happens. Jongin actually gets very cutesy with him, which rarely happens over texts. He keeps calling him the usual pet names – jackass, jerk face, rat bastard, etc. – but there’s not much of the sarcastic bite Chanyeol’s used to his texts having.

Then comes the text that does bother him quite a bit.

 _i won’t be home til late but wait up for me, i’ve got a little present for youuuu_ _❤_

It’s the last text he gets from Jongin that day, but the promise of his anniversary gift makes it easier to let the cryptic message go. He’s even feeling a little smug about his own gift as he drives home, heading straight for his hiding place behind the stacks of vinyl records in his corner of the room and retrieving it. Jongin said on his birthday that he hates expensive presents.  He doesn’t put too much value on flashy material things, but that doesn’t falter his excitement while holding the long silk jewelry box in his hand.

On their first “official” date, Jongin showed an interesting amount of admiration for the white gold infinity necklace he found concealed under Chanyeol’s sweater, given to him by his mother when he went to study abroad in Japan during high school. The symbol hanging in the middle of the chain was somewhat incomplete, the tails of the figure 8 separated, like light, tapered brushstrokes. Jongin took off the silver ring he was wearing and slid it onto the symbol where it hung carelessly in the dip of the first half of the emblem. Throughout the rest of the night they’d both forgotten it was even there, and Jongin accidentally left it hanging on his neck. Of course Chanyeol accused him of leaving it on purpose to have an excuse to see him again, which Jongin valiantly denied, claiming Chanyeol “stole” it for the same reason.

With the help of his mother he tracked down the jewelry shop she purchased it from and found out they still made the necklace in the same style. He bought Jongin an identical one in silver, to better match that silver ring he wears so often. Chanyeol doesn’t make it obvious that he remembers small details like this, things Jongin wouldn’t remember unless given the time to really think about it, and it’s more like him to rub that in his face, but he doesn’t.

 _Come to think of it, I probably should._ But he’ll wait another day to be the asshole Jongin’s used to. For tonight, he’ll try to be a well-behaved boyfriend.

Since Jongin won’t answer his texts with actual answers, he goes ahead and orders a pizza so he doesn’t starve to death waiting for Jongin to come home. He doesn’t notice the steaks marinating in the fridge until he goes searching for a soda – _when did he have time to prepare all that??_ – but considering it’s almost 9 already and Jongin still isn’t home, he feels safe assuming he doesn’t plan on cooking anything when he does.

He’s already dozed off by the time Jongin _does_ get home, and it’s not the gentle, loving tap to his shoulder, babe-are-you-awake type of awakening he expects.

The clacking of keys and the door being kicked closed is what startles him awake. He pushes his headphones off, comforted by the familiar annoyed sigh Jongin always lets out while toeing out of his shoes. The only real difference is when Jongin comes home this late he’s usually not this loud, even if Chanyeol is awake. It’s rather rude, to say the least. If Jongin had been his last roommate coming in like that at…

He shifts, looking at the alarm clock illuminating the time on the bedside table. It’s passed midnight, surprisingly. It’s really unlike Jongin to be out this late with no explanation or call. And speaking of calling, he’s even talking loudly on the phone. Chanyeol can hear him talking to someone.

_"Throw ‘em anywhere, I don’t care, just take it off."_

But then there’s an extra pair of footsteps, a second shadow in the hallway he can see mingling with Jongin’s on the floor, casted through the half open bedroom door, and mumbling that’s nearly inaudible yet way too clear to be filtering through a speakerphone. He immediately assumes it’s Sehun, since Jongin is cackling and fumbling around the way he usually does in his company. Before he can open his mouth to shout at them, he hears the other person’s voice questioning Jongin.

And it’s definitely not Sehun’s.

_"Wait, haha, where are we going?"_

_"Nuh uh, we’ve already been there,"_ he hears Jongin say right outside the door. From where he’s sitting on the far side of the bed, he can only see someone backing up against the door. _“This time, bedroom.”_

Then the door swings open and the person stumbles in as Jongin’s clicking on the lights. With one hand bunching their shirt and the other turning them around, he makes them meet face-to-face with a dumbfounded Chanyeol as he moves off the bed.

Bug-eyed and frozen, both Chanyeol and Kyungsoo stand there, staring at each other. Neither angry nor excited, Chanyeol speaks up first, asking flatly, “D.O…what are you doing here?”

"What are _you_ doing here?” Kyungsoo repeats, just as confused, then jerked forward by the weight of Jongin pressing against his back.

"Surprise, honey," Jongin chimes cheerfully, wrapping his arms around Kyungsoo’s waist and resting his chin on his shoulders. "I told you I had a present for you…"

Chanyeol’s mouth is still agape, looking down at Jongin’s happy face alongside Kyungsoo completely petrified one as Jongin places a small peck on his cheek.

Kyungsoo mumbles as he watches redness begin to collect on Chanyeol’s face, stuttering through trying to speak while Jongin keeps his lips against his neck.

"What the fuck is going on, Jongin?" Chanyeol huffs, crossing his arms over his chest and stepping back.

Jongin’s face flattens as he says, “Isn’t it obvious? What’s going on is what always seems to happen when you two get together,” and releases his hold on Kyungsoo before skipping out to the kitchen.

"What the hell are you doing in my house?" Chanyeol sneers as he watches Jongin leave, stepping forward into Kyungsoo’s space.

He takes a step back in response, raises his hands innocently. “Look, I didn’t know you were here, Jongin told me you weren’t home,” he whispers back.

"And if I wasn’t here, what? You were gonna happily fuck my boyfriend on my bed?!"

“ _Our_ bed,” Jongin corrects, appearing behind Kyungsoo again and pushing a beer bottle into both boys’ hands before plopping onto the mattress. “It’s our bed, Yeol. And yeah, that’s probably what would have happened. But what fun would it be without you here?” He takes a swig of his beer between smirking lips while they stare at him, unmoved.

"You told me he wasn’t –" Kyungsoo starts to say, but Jongin cuts him off.

"I know what I told you. It was a lie." He says, monotone soaking into his voice. "I lied, so what? You two seem to get a real kick out of lying to me, so I thought I’d try it," he laughs.

Chanyeol finds himself a little more confused by Jongin’s jovial expression as he talks than angered by what he’s saying. He has no right to be angry, anyway, because it’s true. But he still can’t wipe the scowl on his face, not just yet. Part of him is also angry at himself for not just telling Jongin the truth, the complete truth. He sits the beer bottle on the floor next to the bed and crosses his arms again, not sure of how he should be reacting anymore. 

Kyungsoo, on the other hand, may be just as conflicted about how to react, but finds himself more terrified than anything. This is exactly what he was afraid of happening and he still allowed himself to be roped in. He’s sure he looks like a deer in headlights right now, standing alongside Chanyeol as they both stood before the person they’ve both, as Jongin said, lied to multiple times, in favor of being with each other, and covering up the fact they’d been together at all.

Jongin takes another swallow from his bottle and continues, turning more towards Chanyeol. “You see, I wanted me and Kyungsoo – oh, wait, you know him as D.O, right?” he asks.

Chanyeol knows it’s a rhetorical question.

"Anyway, I wanted us to have our time together, since there seems to be a lot of fucking I’m not involved in between you two. I mean, you seem to be the luckiest out of all three of us. You’ve been with both of us on a pretty regular basis."

"Jongin, this is insa –"

"No it’s not, it makes perfect sense, Chanyeol. Plus, it’s not like we haven’t done this before," Jongin coos, setting his beer down on the floor beside Chanyeol’s and walking over to him. He pulls his arms away from his chest by the wrists and pushes them down to his sides, circling his fingers around Chanyeol’s larger hands. "What’s it been? Four, five months since we were with Hyunsik?"

Chanyeol nods, threading his fingers with Jongin’s because he knows his brows are still knitted together and he wants him to know he’s not as mad as he knows he looks.

"Don’t you miss it, too? Seeing how I am with other people? Watching me get off on seeing you with someone else? When we stopped going out is when you started sleeping with Kyungsoo, so I know you do…"

"But we stopped for a reason," Chanyeol sighs. "I couldn’t stand making you jealous like that. I didn’t want you second guessing how much I loved you over shit like that anymore…"

"So sneaking around, shutting me out of the fun, that was your bright idea to keep me from being jealous?" Jongin snorts, raising his foot to lightly kick Chanyeol’s shin. "You’re so fucking dumb sometimes. You don’t have to hide things like that from me."

"I know, I know…so…you really want to –"

"Yes. I mean, it’s only fair…plus I wanna see what you liked about him…and we kinda already made out, anyway, so…"

“What?” Chanyeol exclaims. It visibly shakes Kyungsoo, who only realizes he could have slipped out unnoticed when Chanyeol looks passed Jongin to lock eyes with him. “When did that happen?”

Jongin smiles, looking over his shoulder at Kyungsoo, then back at Chanyeol, making note of the redness on his face rising once again, floating up into the tips of his ears. It finally occurs to him that Chanyeol’s waiting on Kyungsoo to answer, but considering he still looks like he wants to crawl out of his skin, Jongin does it for him.

“Friday. Ya’know…that night I locked you out,” he says casually, loosening his grip on Chanyeol’s hands and striding over to Kyungsoo, who’s still gripping his beer bottle between his hands, having barely said a word. Jongin takes it, sets it on the bedside table, and then returns to his previous position behind him, arms around his waist. “I invited him over and we made out on the couch…I wanted to do more than just that,” he whispers, lowering his voice only a little, to be sure Chanyeol can still hear him, “but he talked me out of it.” Jongin moves down Kyungsoo’s body, just low enough that he can push his fingers under his t-shirt.

Kyungsoo jerks, involuntarily shrinking away from the cold hands now caressing his bare torso, only to back into Jongin.

Chanyeol surprisingly finds his hands clench at his side when Jongin fits his mouth over Kyungsoo’s earlobe and tugs at it playfully.

Of course Jongin notices, it’s the reaction he wanted, after all. “What? Does that piss you off, baby?” Jongin asks, still making eye contact with him. “Are you upset that he’s not all yours anymore?” He presses his hands further up Kyungsoo’s chest, grazing over his nipples and feeling them instantly stiffen. “That I picked someone you wanted to keep to yourself?”

Chanyeol laughs nervously, taken aback by how quickly Jongin has slipped back into their little game. Then again he’s had possibly had a few days to get back into the spirit of things. Chanyeol’s only been given a few minutes, and it looks like so has Kyungsoo.

When they used to do this regularly, it was the responsibility of the person “picking” the addition to their bedroom to fully inform said-addition of the situation. Since they usually played with single exes and flings, of which they both had many, they never really had a problem with convincing others to accompany them home. When it came to strangers, they only responded to offers given to them; if the person dancing with them got a little too close or touchy-feely, they’d mention they came with someone, and let the other steer the conversation from there. Mostly they’d get asked if their partner was ‘the jealous type,’ and that would segway into the perfect baiting explanation of _“oh, not really…in fact, he kinda likes watching me with other people…”_

But Jongin’s right, that does kind of piss him off; but assuming that was before he knew exactly who Kyungsoo was _to him_ , it doesn’t bother him that much. And assuming that was probably the best thing to do.

"Maybe a little," he mumbles, relaxing his hands. He reaches up and rubs the back of his neck and takes a step towards the bed, bending down to pick up his beer. "But mostly I’m just wondering what that looked like…you two…"

"Us two, what?" Jongin asks cutely. "Kissing?"

Chanyeol steps back again, moving over to the computer desk in the corner and taking a seat in the swivel chair. “Yeah…so you gonna show me, or are you gonna tease him to death all night?” he chuckles out, putting the glass bottle to his lips.

Kyungsoo cracks a bit of a smile for the first time since entering the room, comforted by Chanyeol seemingly being on board with what Jongin has in mind. And now he’s wondering if he’s actually into this too, or if he’s just kind of letting himself be swept up in this sudden wave. As Jongin gently turns him around and pushes his hands down to his hips, he mentally rolls his eyes at himself. Of course he’s into this, of course he’s got no problem with being a part of this. As far-fetched as it would sound to anyone one else, it does seem to make perfect sense to the three of them, and even though he can hear multiple voices in his mind telling him not to go through with this, he knows that’s all that matters.

Besides, it’s been _foreverrrrr_ since he’s had a threesome, he wasn’t about to pass this up for all the decency in the world.

If he did have any doubts in his mind at all anymore, they were eradicated by the look on Jongin’s face as he tilts his chin up with his finger, locking eyes with him. His gaze is soft, compared to the predatory stare he was just giving Chanyeol, and his touch is now light against his sides.

 “Well, what do you think? Should we show him?” Jongin asks softly, quietly enough that Kyungsoo knows he’s only talking to him, that this is how Jongin’s asking his consent. It’s a small gesture that Kyungsoo greatly appreciates, and he shows that appreciation immediately, bringing his arms from huddled between their bodies and around Jongin’s neck. He spares Chanyeol a quick glance over his shoulder before nodding to Jongin and bringing their foreheads together, leaving Jongin room to tilt his head up and press their lips together.

  
Kyungsoo half-expects Jongin to be more interested in putting on an interesting performance for his boyfriend – that’s usually how the threesomes he’s been a part of worked – but from what he’s feeling, the only evidence of him acknowledging Chanyeol spectating is his slight shift to the side, giving him a better view of their mouths melded together. Kyungsoo keeps his hands loosely locked behind Jongin’s head, index fingers slightly touching the tuffs of hair at the back of his neck. However, Jongin’s hands travel, creep back up under Kyungsoo’s shirt and settle at the small of his back. The kiss doesn’t deepen that much, drastically different from the urgent tongue lashing Jongin treated him to before, but it’s nice. Really nice. So nice that Kyungsoo gets incredibly lost and comfortable in the pillowy contact of Jongin’s lips between his, and it catches him off guard when Jongin roughly pushes him down onto the bed, yanking his shirt off in the process and climbing on top of him.

He straddles Kyungsoo’s legs, sitting just below his pelvis, smiling ear-to-ear as he drops the clothing on the side of the bed. “My, my~ doesn’t this look familiar?” Jongin teases, dipping down to connect their mouths again. There’s a lot more vigor behind the kiss this time, sloppier at first but Kyungsoo keeps up with Jongin’s new speed, twisting his tongue around Jongin’s expertly when it sinks into his mouth. Jongin keeps one hand on the side of face as they kiss and runs the other down his chest, scratching lightly. The pressure increases as they reach his hips, nails digging harder into the skin there.

"Fuck, Jongin," Kyungsoo winces, pulling back and biting his bottom lip. Jongin smiles down at him, and instead of relieving his grip, he pushes his hand down past the waistband of his jeans, grabbing a handful of his ass.

"Better?" Jongin asks against his lips in the same tone as before, now using his other hand to unbutton Kyungsoo’s jeans.

"No, it’s okay, I’m fine with scratching, I just –" his voice breaks off into a gasp as Jongin immediately digs his nails into the skin of his ass, dragging his fingers roughly across to his hipbone. Kyungsoo’s pretty sure he just broke the skin judging by the slight burning he feels when Jongin begins tugging at the legs of his jeans, sitting up to pull them off completely. He pauses after he gets them down to his ankles, running his hands up Kyungsoo’s now bare legs slowly and stopping at his thighs.

Kyungsoo props himself up on his elbows, looking down at Jongin between his legs as he kicks his pants off and – _oh_ – that’s what he meant by this being familiar. If it weren’t for the abrupt shuffling in the corner and the change of scenery, he’d swear this was Friday night all over again. Except this time, an embarrassing realization wasn’t going to kill the mood. The irony of having the person that once completely ruined the night just by inanimately existing in the room was not lost upon him; to hear Chanyeol sighing pretty longingly to the left of Kyungsoo’s head, encouraging the show is definitely ironic ( _if only he’d been this encouraging before…_ ). When he turns to look he sees Chanyeol leaning back slightly with his legs spread, mouth hanging open the same as him as they wait for Jongin to move.

Jongin’s hands slide up under his boxers, thumbs pushing against his inner thighs. Kyungsoo winces, a pronounced inhale of air through his teeth a lot louder than he meant to take, and Jongin’s smile twists isn’t a smirk once again. Because he recognizes that sound, recognizes the feel of tender skin under the pad of his fingertips and pushes up further to expose his legs. He ignores the feel of pubic hair against his index fingers in favor of softly caressing the barely faded bruises on the inside of his thighs.

Kyungsoo squirms, hands reaching out to grab Jongin’s wrists, but as soon as he does Jongin presses his thumbs into the bruises again. Harder, making Kyungsoo jerk again as he groans.

"Did Chanyeol do this to you?" Jongin asks. "Yeollie, you’re such a bully," he coos innocently, as if he wasn’t scratching down the very bruises he was talking about. Kyungsoo tries to keep eye contact, for as long as he can keep his head up, which isn’t for long, as Jongin just seem to really, really love disturbing the old bruises on his body, and his head falls back onto the bed quickly.

Chanyeol sucks his teeth. “He asked me to…he liked it.”

Kyungsoo’s back aches up off the bed as Jongin squeezes at the bruises again, a strange twinge of pain causing him to grip Jongin’s wrist harder. He can see Chanyeol smiling at Jongin before his eyes shut tight, gasp breaking into a moan. It’s definitely not so painful he wants him to stop, not at all, and he hopes he’s not giving Jongin the impression that he wants him to stop. He kinda doesn’t think he would anyway, with how sadistically delighted he looks right now.

"At least I make sure it feels good," Chanyeol adds, and Jongin scoffs on response.

"Oh, you always do, baby," Jongin sighs, "you always make sure it feels good…"

When Jongin retracts his hands Kyungsoo almost pulls them back down, but then his underwear are being tugged down and there are fingers wrapping around his dick, teeth latching onto his nipple before he has time to catch his breath.

"He usually forgets that part," Chanyeol booms unexpectedly, voice a bit lower. For some reason seeing he’s got a hand stuffed down the front of his sweatpants surprises Kyungsoo when he turns to look at him. "But I’m the bully?" he asks, scoffing identically to Jongin.

Jongin shrugs, now flicking his wrist in a way that would have definitely made Kyungsoo hard if he wasn’t already painfully so. Instead of answering Chanyeol’s question, Jongin moved back up to Kyungsoo’s neck after biting at both his nipples and kissing up his chest.

"I didn’t forget," Jongin whispers into the hollows of his throat, "I know you like it…you’re just like me, aren’t you?" He punctuates his question was a subtle scrap of teeth against his skin, a playful little nip at his collarbone. "You don’t mind a little pain, do you, Kyungsoo?"

Jongin’s free hand quickly yanks Kyungsoo’s hair, simultaneously moving with the fingers on his shaft drifting down to cradle his balls, and Kyungsoo’s too preoccupied half-squealing, half-groaning to properly answer him. He weakly nods his head instead.

Kyungsoo can feel the grin spreading back across Jongin’s mouth against his throat and he can’t help but shiver, unconsciously shimmying down into Jongin’s touch as he says, “Chanyeol told me we were alike…I kinda wanna find out if that’s really true…”

Jongin makes good on that promise, being anything but gentle as he does exactly what Chanyeol presumed him to want to do in the beginning of all this: tease. He teases Kyungsoo – painfully, relentlessly, tirelessly – dragging out every little touch and kiss and bite and scratch as much as he can. He somehow makes an event of lapping at his dick while opening him up, stretching him both with his fingers and tongue, the latter being his favorite (as so confirmed by Chanyeol).

There was something so intoxicating about being under Jongin altogether, but that image just kind of _broke_ Kyungsoo. The chill he got from looking down the span of his torso and seeing the head of his cock leaking onto his stomach just above Jongin’s glinting, alluring gaze was almost enough to make him cum instantly. The sight being nearly as wonderful as the feeling of Jongin’s shallow breathing through his nose, short beats of warm air against his sack coupled with the slide of wet laps to his ass and nails digging into his cheeks from underneath, lifting his hips.

Kyungsoo hadn’t even noticed Jongin was still fully clothed until he finally stood back from the bed and started unbuckling his belt, giving Kyungsoo a chance to breathe. He rolled onto his stomach, perching himself up onto his hands and knees, more than proudly presenting his backside to Jongin.

To his surprise, Chanyeol’s in front of him, having moved away from the desk and now standing on his side of the bed. He’s looking above him, no doubt at Jongin, beaming happily as he nods his head, and then his attention is back on Kyungsoo in the middle of the bed. His hand is still in his pants, palming himself as he looks down at the boy also taking in the impressive bulge a foot from his face. He crooks his finger in a beckoning motion, and had this been thirty minutes ago Kyungsoo knows he probably would have booked it in the opposite direction instead of crawling forward obediently.

"Now you see what I have to deal with," he says in a hushed tone, both hands now on Kyungsoo’s face, "having Edward Scissorhands as a boyfriend." He trails his fingers over a scratch running from his neck to the middle of his shoulder blade and Kyungsoo smiles through the slight burn.

"Doesn’t seem like a problem to me," Kyungsoo mumbles, and he’s surprised his voice came out at all, barely shaken but quiet. It’s not like he’s been screaming, but his throat feels a bit dry from having his mouth hanging open. He’s kinda afraid to mention that because he’s pretty sure Jongin would do his best to make sure he’s shrieking in no time. Not that he minds… _hmmm…maybe I should mention it…_

Jongin laughs behind him, rummaging through the bedside table drawer. “Don’t act like you don’t love it.”

"You don’t give me much of a choice in the matter," Chanyeol sneers, quickly glancing past Kyungsoo’s head again. "You sure seem to like it, though," he says to Kyungsoo, lifting his chin after he drops his nodding head. “Yeah, I can tell,” he soothes, voice lowering as he moves down and kisses the side of his mouth.

It feels as if he was going to really kiss him, but decided against it last minute, and without thinking it out fully, Kyungsoo throws his arms around Chanyeol’s neck and pulls him down into a kiss. Chanyeol’s obviously hesitant if only for a few seconds, but Kyungsoo notices all the same. It immediately reminds him of the first time they kissed, surrounded by the familiar smell of whatever warm, musky cologne he remembers smelling on him first, through the thickness of the smoke of incense and hookah. He still can’t tell if Chanyeol smells like Jongin or if Jongin smells like Chanyeol – the bed, the sheets, the room all smell like them. He honestly doesn’t care either way, because he’s surrounded by it even more when he feels the weight swift on the bed behind him and feels hands on his waist.

“Can’t keep your hands off him for a second, you selfish fuck,” Jongin says, and Kyungsoo can feel the teeth on his shoulder as Jongin smiles. He can also feel Jongin – all of him – pressing into his back, all supple, comforting heat against his back and he pushes his ass back, reluctantly separating from Chanyeol when Jongin pulls his hair again.

“ _He_ kissed _me_ , you jealous maniac,” Chanyeol snaps back, hands already extended past Kyungsoo and grabbing the back of Jongin’s neck.

“I don’t fucking care, go back over there and wait your turn, asshole.” There’s no malice in Jongin’s voice, all playful toned and sing-song but Chanyeol still frowns at him.

Kyungsoo’s awkwardly trapped between them in the most un-awkward way as Chanyeol pulls Jongin forward to kiss him, too. He’s just not sure if he would categorize being squashed between two erections as uncomfortable. He’s definitely been in worst positions.

It is a bit odd to watch Chanyeol and Jongin kiss, mostly because they’re too fucking close to his face and he can’t see anything clearly. It’s cliché to think, but he does feel like the two blurred figures are literally ‘fighting’ to take lead. There’s also a lot of biting coming from Jongin, and giggling when Chanyeol curses and pulls away.

Chanyeol does finally obey Jongin, but instead of returning to the desk chair he only backs into the wall behind him and kicks his foot up. Apparently Jongin made a face of disapproval because Chanyeol makes it back mockingly, then waves his hand as a sign for them to continue on.

Jongin sucks his teeth and pushes the center of Kyungsoo’s back, urging him to bend down on all fours. He does so quickly, grinding back into Jongin again, a lot more urgently this time. The feeling of something hard and slick sliding into the crevice of his ass, teasing his already sensitive hole makes him shiver. Uneasy, because he was kind of waiting to get his mouth on Jongin, but it doesn’t seem like he needs the assistance. Knowing that doesn’t suppress his appetite for it, though. It might just be increasing it.

Kyungsoo sighs as he feels Jongin shove a finger inside him, immediately curving it upwards and pressing into his prostate, and he almost bites through his tongue to keep from squealing. A tiny squeak still leaks out and Jongin chuckles, patting Kyungsoo’s ass lightly at first, then slapping hard across it. When Jongin moves away again his first instinct is to whine, missing the contact, but before he can even get the sound out he’s getting yanked by his ankles and flipped onto his back.

“C’mere, baby…I need to see your face.” Jongin pulls him closer, gripping under Kyungsoo’s knees and settling between his legs. Jongin looks rather amused by the way Kyungsoo’s erection bounces against his belly, but mostly he looks just as hungry as Kyungsoo feels. He wiggles down unconsciously, making it easier for Jongin to line himself up.

Kyungsoo makes an effort to look Jongin directly in the eye as he nudges at his entrance, and the anxious stare he’s met with makes him rethink teasing him more, the sinister thought of smearing the lubed up head of his dick against him until he was begging to be fucked diminishes with witnessing such need. He wanted that so badly before, but looking down at Kyungsoo spread legged and panting, just waiting, wanting, he couldn’t bare it anymore. He’s got a track record of extending foreplay to extremes but, even he can admit he’s got an unhealthy weak spot for a masochist.

Kyungsoo makes this absolutely gorgeous gasping sound when Jongin pushes in slowly, a perfect mix of sighing relief and wincing as he bites down on his lip. Part of him wants to really savor this moment, watch the only slightly pained expression on his face fade away slowly as he slinks in, but he pushes in anyway, thrusting in completely with one smooth slide. Kyungsoo’s back immediately arches off the bed, the hand above his head gripping the sheet and the other digging into Jongin’s forearm.

He doesn’t even think to let him adjust to the fullness before he pulls out and thrusts in even harder. Egged on by Kyungsoo’s sounds alone, he surges his hips forward, setting up a fast pace and bending down to swallow every moan and whimper he can. Even when he’s pulling out Kyungsoo seems to rock down immediately, missing the contact of Jongin’s hipbones against him for even just that one second.

Topping isn’t exactly something Jongin finds himself wanting to do that much, but being around annoying alpha males and constantly dominated by one definitely keeps it on his mind more. And there was just something about Kyungsoo in general that just kind of begged for that kind of attention – but only from certain people. As always, being wanted it that way gives him this strange boost of confidence he’s pretty sure is expected of a top. And it’s not as if he needs any more credit, but hearing how much they had in common sexually from the panting dog still standing beside the bed and taking in the show ( _cough_ – Chanyeol) _definitely_ increased his already present desire to push Kyungsoo against something and fuck his brains out. _Shit, it probably would have happened if he had been at work today_ , despite Jongin already knowing he was most likely, almost certainly – pretty obviously – his boyfriend’s lover.

Maybe he’s only thinking this way because they met under different circumstances, but Jongin couldn’t even muster enough malice for Kyungsoo before he knew who he was. Even when he was just a faceless stranger, competing for space on Chanyeol’s body and matching his marks toe-to-toe, he didn’t even hate Kyungsoo then. To see they even had identical love bites and bruises on their bodies caused by the same person linked them in familiarity with each other. Jongin already knew how to attract Kyungsoo, how he liked to be touched and kissed and fucked because they were strikingly similar in so many aspects. Jongin can understand what was so special about Kyungsoo to Chanyeol, so enticing about him that he couldn’t stay away once he’d been with him. In sexual terms, at least. Sure, they might differ in vocabulary, attitude, and appearance. Jongin may be a bit taller and Kyungsoo may be a bit more cunning, but in the bedroom they’re turning out to be one in the same.

Jongin imagines this is what it’s like to have sex with him, and as conceited as it sounds, it’s just as hot as he thought it would be. Maybe even more so, now that the odd air of vanity has cleared and he’s no longer imagining what it’d be like to literally go fuck himself. There’s no need for it anymore, Kyungsoo provides a vividly accurate mirrored image of actions. He’s just as vocal as Jongin is, constantly rakes his nails against any available skin like he does, bites both his lips until they're swollen and threatening to split open like him. He even grips the back of Jongin's neck tightly every time he bends over to kiss him the same way Jongin does with Chanyeol. It’s frightening to some extent, but makes him feel powerful in ways he can’t explain, sparks a match and increases the heat in the pit of his stomach every time he thrusts into him. There’s an extremely quiet voice in the back of his mind telling him he’s jealous little prick, that he’s only pistoling forward so roughly because there’s still a part of him that hates Kyungsoo for logical reasons, part of him that doesn’t regret one terrible word he’s said about him when he was just an unknown force driving a wedge between him and Chanyeol.

There’s still a part of him that wants to hurt Kyungsoo.

A part of him still wants to punish him the same way he punishes Chanyeol. Not too harshly, but in a subtle way that makes him feel better nonetheless, but he knows there’s no way he could do the same things he does to Chanyeol to him, because Kyungsoo takes too much pleasure in being hurt, just like him. The worst he could to Kyungsoo would be to show him genuine affection, to provide intimacy instead of lust. That’s exactly what Chanyeol did that originally turned him off when they first started screwing around.

A larger part of him does already genuinely like Kyungsoo, so it’s not too hard for him to dial back the dirtiest of what he wants to say right now. It’s easy to lean over and softly stroke Kyungsoo’s face in a contrasting way compared to the harsh rocking of his hips and whisper sweet nothings into his sweaty neck between kisses. Except they’re not nothing to Jongin, he truly does love how Kyungsoo feels around him, he does wish he could stay inside him forever, he does adore every sound coming from his mouth. He even loves the nervous little laugh he lets out and the breathless, innocent way he whispers “really?” before stuttering through pleads to be fucked harder. He isn’t even offended when Kyungsoo asks him what’s wrong with him between grunts, because he’s reacting exactly the same way Jongin does when Chanyeol gets gross and sappy on him. Well, it would be exactly the same if he told Jongin to –

"Jesus Christ, would you just shut up and fuck me, please?"

_Okay, wow, nevermind, now it’s exact. Almost word-for-word…freaky._

Chanyeol snorts a bit at Kyungsoo’s outburst, and when Jongin looks up the smile’s completely wiped from his face. He stares back as innocently as he can with his erection snug in his hand, now pulled above the waistband of his sweatpants. Jongin raises an eyebrow at him and he just strokes up his shaft slowly, pushing his foreskin up to the head and making the precum at the tip pearl and drip so prettily Jongin can’t stop himself from groaning.

Jongin sits up and grabs Kyungsoo’s legs from underneath, scooting him forward until his head is nearly hanging off the bed. Curling one finger invitingly to call Chanyeol and another on the opposite hand to tilt Kyungsoo’s head back, Jongin wordlessly orders Chanyeol to stand to the side of Kyungsoo’s face.

When Kyungsoo turns his head towards Chanyeol, Jongin grips his chin hard, directing his attention back to him. Kyungsoo squirms down, already missing the fast pace strokes now replaced with slow and shallow ones. Calculated, because Jongin doesn’t need him lost in pleasure or thrown off by pillow talk right now, he needs him to listen.

"Oh, wow, you turned your head so fast. Aw, you miss sucking my boyfriend’s dick, don’t you?" Jongin asks, voice soaked in sarcastic sympathy. "You must miss it, you looked so starved right then, hah."

Kyungsoo only twists his lips into a frown and shuts his eyes, skin flushing slightly under Jongin’s fingertips. When he opens them again a second later he’s met with the sight of a familiar vein on the underside of Chanyeol’s dick, now hovering over his face with Jongin’s hand guiding it. Teasingly, Jongin circles the head around Kyungsoo’s open mouth, just barely touching it enough to do more than lightly smear precum over his lips. Kyungsoo whines when Jongin raises it out of his tongue’s reach, head still held in place by Jongin’s other hand. He resorts to darting it across his bottom lip instead and tasting the wetness it left behind on his mouth.

"You waaant~ it?" Jongin asks cutely, childishly wiggling it above his face. And Chanyeol lets him, wincing when Jongin squeezes his fingers around it too tightly and dips down to swipe his tongue over it.

Kyungsoo’s a little struck out how juvenile Jongin’s acting, easily shifting from scratching & biting him like some aggressive sadist to sweet talking him like some affectionate lover to happily waving an actual dick in his face _like a fucking cat toy._

All this in the matter of, what? 45 minutes? An hour? Kyungsoo always has a hard time focusing on time when Jongin’s near him (speaking of time, he might have left work a little early by accident…whoops).

“Come on, speak up, ya little slut,” Jongin bites, tapping Chanyeol’s dick on the side of Kyungsoo’s face. “You’ve been dying to get something in your mouth, haven’t you?”

 _Yes_ , the answer to Jongin’s question was a definite yes, but he’s not sure if Jongin is actually looking for an answer or just being a prick. At this point Jongin’s dick is barely moving inside of him and Chanyeol’s is so close to his mouth, and if Jongin’s looking for him to beg, then goddammit, he would.

"Yes, fuck, please. I want it, I want –” He can’t finish the sentence because Jongin’s fingers move up to his mouth, tugging his jaw open.

"You’re so obedient it’s almost pathetic," Jongin scoffs, kissing the tip of Chanyeol’s dick one more time before unceremoniously shoving it between Kyungsoo’s lips. "Almost. Now be a good boy and suck." Of course, being accustom to not-so-gentle touches, Kyungsoo adjusts quickly, lifting himself up on his elbows to properly suckle the head in his mouth.

"Shit," Chanyeol sighs, and Kyungsoo’s pretty certain it’s out of relief from Jongin releasing his tight grip on him and moving his hands back to Kyungsoo’s legs, pushing them towards his chest.

Jongin watches Kyungsoo closely, smiling up at Chanyeol and adding in his own tiny kisses and kitten licks to his hipbones as he continues to thrusts shallowly into Kyungsoo. He’s effectively folding Kyungsoo in half, leaning down on his shins to reach where he & Chanyeol meet, and even though it’s not exactly painful he’s can definitely say wrapping his legs around Jongin’s waist feels a lot better. So does the renewed force of his thrusts and Kyungsoo works hard to relax his throat & take Chanyeol further down when Jongin picks up his speed again.

Kyungsoo doesn’t want to admit it but he’s more sad than relieved to see the gentle façade of Jongin fade away, it was actually quite an endearing change of pace, to hear romantic things while being fucked mercilessly. He looked much more in his element being rough on him though, and the callous things he begins saying have more of a smirk behind them than a snicker, which is definitely more suitable for everyone in the room.

It seems as though as soon as Kyungsoo’s mouth became occupied, Jongin became extremely chatty, every thrust and roll of his hips coupled with a dirty, menacing question Kyungsoo couldn’t answer if he tried. Part of him felt like Jongin purposely waited to get so vocal now, while his mouth was full and all he could do was whine or murmur in response. For some reason, the word “pathetic” stuck to him, as if Jongin was repeating it, even though he’d only said it once. He’s found other ways to further demeaning him, like asking him how long it took him to learn how to be such a great multi-tasker (and Chanyeol can’t seem to resist commenting with “why? Are you looking for a mentor?”). He asks if Chanyeol tastes like him while laughing, saying Kyungsoo’s probably well acquainted with how Jongin’s ass tastes by now. Every time Jongin opens his mouth to taunt him, Kyungsoo feels this overwhelming sense of disenfranchisement – like he’s less included, much less the center of attention, but just an extension of the two on either side of him. Like he’s just an afterthought, a receptacle for them to fill, a shiny new addition to their already rich sex life. It feels as if he’s barely even there until Jongin speaks directly to him or Chanyeol pulls his hair. All the while he heard that word over and over, feels more and more pathetic and more & more like Jongin wants it that way. Nothing Jongin says sounds mean-spirited, but when he said that word, _pathetic_ , he breathed it out with such weight, such judgment. He was talking down to him, like it bored him that this wasn’t challenging at all, like it was too easy to get Kyungsoo to behave if it meant he was getting off. He told him to _be a good boy_ , to do as he’s told and nothing else. He called him _obedient_ , like a pet, at his owner’s beg & call, finding pleasure in denying himself to please others. _So obedient it’s_ _pathetic._ As if he wanted Kyungsoo to think about all those times he was there with open arms anytime someone asked for him. The way Jongin never refers to Chanyeol by name, only _his boyfriend_ , cements the presence of possessiveness Kyungsoo always felt when looking at Chanyeol's heavily marked body. Maybe it wasn’t his intention, but so many of Jongin’s actions and words have been revealed to be manipulative with time…it’s not a stretch to think Jongin’s trying to add insult to injury. Kyungsoo really can’t blame him.

Any time he gags or sputters because of Chanyeol hitting the back of his throat, Jongin seems to fuck into him harder. Or maybe he’s just imagining that because the thought of Jongin _trying_ to make this painful for him – trying to break him – is a little too much of a turn on. And he can’t blame Jongin for any animosity he may still hold for him, he’s honestly welcoming it. From the moment he met Jongin, he’s been forced to confront too many of his recent sins, things he never in a million years would think he’d receive punishment for. Even if it’s as small as an unkind word from a person he indirectly hurt and directly deceived, he was ready to accept it.

Jongin’s voice goes soft when Chanyeol proclaims he’s close, and his hand immediately goes to Kyungsoo’s neck, his lips to his ear. “Don’t swallow it,” he commands softly with a nip to his earlobe. “I think you’ve drunk enough of my boyfriend’s cum, don’t you?”

He could answer clearly the next second when Chanyeol frees his mouth, but he decides to just nod understandingly as Chanyeol begins jerking himself above their faces. Jongin’s hand moves up to his chin, thumb & index finger pressing into his cheeks and keeping his mouth open. Unneeded, because the last thing Kyungsoo’s trying to do keep his mouth close, but the forcefulness seems aesthetically pleasing for Chanyeol. He looks absolutely lost in ecstasy  as he looks down at them, even more so as he watches his semen spill into Kyungsoo’s mouth, the first stripe falling on Kyungsoo’s cheek. The rest squarely hits its mark, painting white on his tongue, and Jongin is pulling Kyungsoo up into his lap before Chanyeol can even wipe the last bits on the boy’s mouth.

“Let me see it,” Jongin soothes, letting Kyungsoo wiggle into a comfortable position on top of his thighs, his hand now rests loosely around his neck.

Kyungsoo sheepishly opens his mouth a bit, letting Jongin see the curve of his empty tongue but not enough for him to see where he’s let the liquid slide alongside his gums, skillfully hidden.

Jongin chuckles, tightening his grip on his neck. “Don’t hide it, let me see, Kyungsoo.”

The corner of Kyungsoo’s mouth turns up a little. He dips his tongue down and lets the semen pool onto it and opening his mouth wider so Jongin could actually see it this time.

“Well, aren’t you a playful little one?” Jongin laughs again, dragging Kyungsoo further into his lap by circling his arm around his waist. “You’re so cute, baby,” he whispers, nuzzling into the side of his face. His index finger hooks over Kyungsoo’s bottom lip and effectively makes the semen, now mixed with his saliva, dripping it onto the digit. The fluid slides down his hand and Jongin licks up the trail to Kyungsoo’s mouth, ladling his tongue into Kyungsoo’s mouth to cease the rest. It’s not really a kiss, just Jongin softly sucking out the cum gathered in his cheeks, but Kyungsoo still likes to think it was. Kyungsoo makes it a bit easier by sitting up straighter, positioning his mouth above Jongin’s, pushing it out and letting it drop onto the other’s tongue.

“Holy shit,” Chanyeol says from beside them, and Jongin spares him a quick glance, open-mouth grinning as Kyungsoo spits the last of it into his mouth. Jongin even laps the bit of it on the side of his face, curving his tongue up his face from his chin. He keeps that cheeky, mischievous smile when he turns to show his full mouth to Chanyeol before swallowing. “Fuck, that was... _fuck_.”

Jongin smiles, wiping the wet trail on Kyungsoo’s face with his thumb before kissing Kyungsoo again. Instead of returning him to his original position on his back, Jongin unfolds his legs from under them and lays back himself. Chanyeol, now laying across the top of the bed, downs the last of his beer and gets closer, tossing the bottle to the side and getting comfortable next to them. Jongin keeps his hands cupped around Kyungsoo’s face as they kiss, so he jumps when he suddenly feels Chanyeol’s hand crawling up his outer thigh.

Jongin smacks Chanyeol’s hand away, running his hands down to Kyungsoo’s hips himself. When Kyungsoo rolls his ass down on him, Jongin pushes his thumbs into his hipbones, relishing in the moan it results in. Kyungsoo sits up, seats himself completely on Jongin’s dick before grinding up again. Jongin groans, jerking up into him when he grinds back down again. Kyungsoo began rocking back and forth as soon as Jongin pushed against his hips again, not having to be told that’s what he wanted. He could tell by the look in Jongin’s hazy eyes when he sat up, the way he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and let his eyes travel down to where their bodies meet.

And speaking of where bodies meet, Jongin is sure to keep his free hand in Chanyeol’s hair, the other tight around Kyungsoo’s waist, still meeting Kyungsoo’s bouncing with his own upward thrusts. Jongin operates like a well-oiled machine at all times, it seems. Chanyeol’s eyes only separate from Jongin’s when Jongin closes his to thrash against the bed, and any time that happens Chanyeol turns attention to Kyungsoo. There’s an unexplained tightness in his stomach as he watches them stare each other down, sees the building of anticipation before they steal breath-taking kisses from each other when one dares to get close enough. It’s an odd feeling he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to bare if Jongin’s shaft wasn’t rubbing oh-so-sweetly against his prostate, distracting him from how disgustingly intimate they looked.

Kyungsoo closes his own eyes, concentrating on the feeling of Jongin’s stuttering breathing underneath the feeling of his fingertips, the comforting feel of his hand caressing his side warmly and the sensation of being filled to the hilt. Kyungsoo had all the time in the world to feel sorry for himself, to wallow in his self-loathing and talk down to himself on deeper levels than anyone else could – right now was about pleasing Jongin, and to an extension, Chanyeol. After all, Jongin had called him a present.

A gift. A thing. And inanimate object.

Again, he finds himself referring to himself as a _thing_. Something Chanyeol and Jongin have in common. He’s made himself a pawn in someone else’s relationship and he honestly can’t believe he let himself get so swept up in _like_ and lust that he’d allow this. He thinks of how he should have let this end when Chanyeol confirmed he had a boyfriend. He should have let this go when he found out Jongin was said-boyfriend. He should have just chalked it up to bad luck and lost both their numbers. He could have avoided Jongin at work the same way he ignored Chanyeol’s texts when he felt like it. He should have pulled away from the both of them when he had the chance and maybe he wouldn’t be so comfortable with being stuck between them.

Or at least he _thinks_ he shouldn’t be so comfortable with being stuck between them. But then Chanyeol wraps his hand around his neglected cock and begins slowly pumping it in time with how Kyungsoo’s bouncing on Jongin’s lap. And Jongin sits up to further agitate the hickeys he left on his neck and tweak his nipples. And maybe he’s too lost in all of this, too calmed by Chanyeol’s deep voice in his ear and Jongin’s warn touch, to ever really feel like this was all a mistake he should have avoided making. He cums across Jongin’s chest and Chanyeol’s hand and to the sound of them both praising him, adoring him, and it feels a lot better than any mistake he's ever made in his life. He’s surrounded by that deliciously, tantalizing scent that swirls around their room, mixed with the smell of alcohol and sweat and sex and he can’t bring himself to be ashamed of how much he loves it all.

Jongin cums inside him not even a minute later in frantic, untimed thrusts that Kyungsoo rides him through, squeezing around him to drain him of every ounce. Kyungsoo’s head is spinning as Chanyeol pulls him into a kiss while he’s still rolling against Jongin’s softening cock and Jongin’s practically whining from the overstimulation.

Kyungsoo all but flops to the side as he gets off of Jongin, still guided by Chanyeol’s hand against his neck and kissing him back lazily. He ends up catching his breath on Chanyeol’s side of the bed, listening to Chanyeol and Jongin claim each other’s lips again. He lies there, staring at the ceiling, hearing their disgusting make out sounds interrupted by them insulting each other. It seems so unromantic, but Jongin laughs so earnestly when Chanyeol calls him a selfish bastard, and retorts with a softly executed _“fuck you.”_

When Chanyeol affectionately claims to hate him, to which Jongin replies _“I love you, too,”_ Kyungsoo finally grasps why the people around them never fret when these two are having issues. He remembers Amber telling him that Jongin’s bad moods never last long, he remembers Sehun calling them the Drama Couple on days Jongin looked ready to leap of the nearest building because of Chanyeol. Yet here they are – oddly digging up whatever mean thing they can lovingly say to each other.

Kyungsoo quietly slips away into the bathroom, seemingly unnoticed as they continue coddling each other, picking up his underwear on this way across the room. He turns on the sink and splashes his face with water a few times, trying to soberly process what just happened as he wipes Jongin’s semen off his thigh and from between the crack of his ass with a towel he found on the floor. He slips back into his underwear and takes a second to look at himself in the mirror. He looks tired, but thoroughly satisfied, taking time to admire the darkening marks and scratches on his chest and neck. There’s a particularly prominent bite mark on his ribcage he’s absolutely sure is going to bruise badly, and he can already tell the hickey right below his right ear is going to be one hell of a spectacle by morning. He pokes at it, rubs his hand against it and relishes in the slight tick of pain he feels against it. He clears his throat, coughing at bit and pooling some water in his hands to drink because Chanyeol had nearly rubbed his throat raw. It stings just to swallow, but in a way he doesn’t mind at all. It’s a feeling he’s used to.

When he comes out of the bathroom, he’s greeted by Jongin’s sleepy eyes admiring a bruise around his wrist with Chanyeol’s arm slung over his waist. Chanyeol looks wide awake and cocky as he smiles over Jongin’s shoulder, a familiar look for him. They look sickeningly cozy, and Kyungsoo averts his eyes after staring for a few seconds. He felt as if he was eavesdropping on a very intimate moment between them, and suddenly felt like making his exit. He begins scanning the floor for the rest of his clothes, picking up his pants from the side of the bed. When he reaches for his shirt beside the bedside table, Jongin’s hand suddenly reaches out to him.

“Are you leaving?” Jongin asks quietly. His eyes are barely open as he tugs at Kyungsoo’s arm, but his face scrunches when Kyungsoo nods slowly. “Why?” He asks, dragging the question out into a whine that makes Chanyeol laugh shortly.

Kyungsoo looks to him since Jongin is now just making gentle noises of disapproval and yanking his arm.

Chanyeol simply shrugs. “He likes to cuddle after” he says.

Jongin nods once, and apparently that’s enough to make Kyungsoo drop his clothes and let Jongin pull him back onto the bed. Chanyeol leaves only for a brief moment to close the door to the bathroom and turn off the lights. Its pitch black for a few seconds until Chanyeol returns to the bed, stands up on it and pushes the screen back on the skylight directly above them. He does look down at Jongin and Kyungsoo laying on the bed after he does this, but the moon casts too dark of a shadow around his face and Kyungsoo can’t see whatever expression he makes at them. Regardless, he drops down onto the bed and covers them all with the comforter Kyungsoo remembers Jongin pushing half way off the bed earlier.

Chanyeol’s arm reaches over both of them, but he keeps his wrist over Jongin’s side and only traces his fingers along Kyungsoo’s back, while Jongin’s arm drops over Kyungsoo’s hips. Jongin nestles his face into the crook of Kyungsoo’s neck, kissing behind his ear and sighing.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” he murmurs, his tone concerned and somewhat solemn.

Kyungsoo’s a bit surprised, confused by the fact that Jongin even wants him to stay, let alone was saddened by Kyungsoo seeming to be ready to leave in a hurry. He’s so used to things like this ending impersonally and quickly. It was almost like his body kicked into auto-pilot as soon as Jongin pulled out of him and Chanyeol pulled away. He wasn’t ready to think about what Jongin wanting him to stay meant – what Jongin _wanting him_ to want to stay meant – but he was tired and sore and was much more partial to getting some sleep than thinking about what this would do to their relationship.

Relationship? Friendship? Courtship? Kyungsoo didn’t know what to call this and he honestly felt this was something better left to daylight hours. So he settles in, presses back against Jongin’s body and takes a deep breath as he lets his fatigue take hold.

He thinks he might have heard Jongin say something along the lines of “happy anniversary, baby” before he falls asleep, and maybe he heard Chanyeol’s obnoxious laughter before he repeats it back, right before succumbing to the darkness behind his eyelids, but he might have just imagined that.

He’d rather think he imagined the kisses to the back of his neck and shoulders timed too close to have both been Jongin, too.


	10. Epilogue: Theirs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's nowhere else Jongin would rather be.

There were people who told Jongin that he should expect things to change after a night like that. Of course, those same people speculated that he was revealing it as a one-time ‘walk on the wild side,’ when he and Chanyeol had already had several similar sexual escapades. He knew better than to think anything between them would really change. Nothing ever changes between him and Chanyeol, even when he tries his damnedest to make things change. And for the first time in a long time, he’s realizing that maybe that isn’t such a bad thing.

Maybe.

But maybe this time something did change. And it’s a change others would probably find as a major thing; a milestone into a new, strange lifestyle.

Considering that many would also find their relationship in general new and strange, it understandably wasn’t that big of a deal to them. It just felt like a natural, gradual, barely noticeable change to Jongin, a simple progression. If the change had effected Chanyeol in any major way, he sure as hell wasn’t showing it, so Jongin feels secure in saying he too thinks nothing had to change, but is happy with what did change for the better. Just like him.

Chanyeol lays stretched out on the couch, head perched up on Jongin’s lap while they sit in front of the television and the remnants of their meal sit untouched on the dining table. Neither of them felt much like cleaning tonight. It can wait until morning. Well, later in the morning, considering it’s already well past midnight.

Chanyeol complains about Jongin using his chest as mug rest, whining about the 8 ounce weight of hot porcelain crushing his sternum, but makes no sudden moves to shake the cup off. He’s not dumb enough to spill hot coffee all over himself just to annoy Jongin.

Jongin glances down at him, strained grin plastered on his lips because Chanyeol’s hands keep creeping higher up his thigh while he half-heartedly bitches and moans without meaning a single word. Jongin fights back his smile because Chanyeol’s trying so hard to be bothersome right now, just because he’s been a little too affectionate without a sarcastic cast today. That’s all Chanyeol ever does: impersonate a horrible person the best he can because that’s always what expected of him, then contradict himself with how much he shows he cares. Chanyeol’s always been like that. He’s always pushing Jongin away, always. Jongin’s gotten way passed accepting that, because the little things Chanyeol does & the little things he remembers show how much he really does love him. And Jongin has always pretended not to notice it; how in love Chanyeol is with him. First for his own comfort, then for the both of them. Even after a year, being committed is still pretty new to both of them, but Jongin liked to think they’re doing alright for two former serial daters. An oversexed attention whore and an attention-weary sex addict shouldn’t expect to do much better than ‘alright’ when it comes to normalcy in romance. Jongin knows at the end of the day, all these tiny incidents of unashamed declarations and unwarranted touches and genuine concern reflect how Chanyeol really feels, so he has no problem disregarding his words and attitude. He knows they’re just a shield. A barrier Jongin’s broken through a long time ago, but that they both like to pretend is still there. Chanyeol is always pushing, so Jongin always pulls.

Chanyeol does the same, never forgetting to push when Jongin pulls him. He can let small implications of their relationship still being wholly physical go easily because he knows Jongin isn’t just staying around because he likes the way they fuck. He knows Jongin will always love him more than he pretends to hate him. He can depend on Jongin to be there silently in the night when he’s regretting every dumb word he’s ever said, nights when he hates himself more than he can ever love Jongin, nights when all he does is wish he could be someone else. He can count on Jongin to pull him back regardless of whether or not he deserves it, remind him of how lucky he is, how wonderful he is. Jongin tells him over and over that he shouldn’t regret anything that lead up to this, ever. He reminds Chanyeol to thank whatever powers that keep them in each other's arms.

He knows Jongin’s only acting annoyed with the light contact of calloused finger tips on his thigh, so he continues, waiting on Jongin to finally break and just laugh at how hardheaded they both are.

Jongin truly thinks it tickles more than anything, but he’d rather pretend it’s bothering him so Chanyeol has a dumb excuse to continue than be disgusted by their own cutesiness.

Chanyeol’s been babbling drunkenly for about an hour, pretty much just for the hell of it, enjoying the sound of his own voice too much to shut up. Without it being as loud and boisterous as usual these past few weeks, Jongin decides he enjoys it, too.

It’s childish and petty, the way they function on a daily basis, but they can’t help it. It’s their routine, and they like it that way.

And maybe they were unconventional in every other perspective, in logical perspectives and such, but Jongin can’t help but think _if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, right?_ And they weren’t broken. It seemed like it for a while, and maybe they were, just a little, but they weren’t.

"Fuck, what time is it?"

Jongin turns his head towards the groggy voice in their bedroom doorway, smiling happily as he watches the person rub the sleep from their eyes and pad into the kitchen.

"Almost two," Chanyeol answers, "Jongdae already called and told you to go fuck yourself."

"What a big baby. I’m sure he got home just fine, he’s left me stranded plenty of times before," they reply from inside the pantry.

"Are you really still hungry, Kyungsoo?" Jongin asks, finally taking the extra effort to place his coffee mug on the table instead of balancing it on Chanyeol’s pectoral.

"Kinda," he shrugs, entering the room with a open bag of pita chips.

"Maybe you should start taking vitamins or something," Chanyeol suggests, reaching out to pinch at Kyungsoo’s thighs, the only exposed skin under his black t-shirt.

"Oh, shut up," he sneers, slapping his hand away. Chanyeol’s already made enough jokes about him wanting them both to get healthier if they were going to fool around so often. Kyungsoo was already kind of considering it anyway.

Jongin laughs as Chanyeol continues poking at Kyungsoo and Kyungsoo tells him how stupid and immature he is as he makes himself comfortable on the floor in front of Jongin. Chanyeol actually turns on his side to keep the hand he has between Jongin’s thighs in place while he dedicates the other to poking at old hickeys on Kyungsoo’s neck, projecting his approximate healing times for each one based on how long his own usually last.

Jongin lets his mind wander, watching Chanyeol and Kyungsoo interact like overgrown school children and argue over the remote. Kyungsoo reminds Chanyeol that he’s an invited guest when Chanyeol says he can’t barge in and start dictating what they’re going to watch.

When Kyungsoo leans over to pass him his mug off the table, he reads the bold English lettering on the back of his work shirt that says **_D.O_** , the only moniker Chanyeol knew him by for almost half a year. Now he comfortably calls him by his real name, as comfortably as he calls Jongin’s. It rolls of his tongue the same way, in ecstasy, in anguish, in annoyance. In quiet whispers and excited outbursts, the way you’d call a friend, the way you’d call a lover. Jongin knows this is a new development in how they used to interact, and sometimes it’s overwhelming for Kyungsoo - he’s not used to accepting the kind of love either of them provide him with. He’s not used to being catered to and watched over, analyzed at almost every turn, but he understands that’s just the way Chanyeol is. He’s not used to being cared for and given so much attention, being provided for unconditionally, but he understands that’s just the way Jongin is.

And they’re still learning so much about each other, every day is new. Sometimes frustrating, sometimes confusing, but always new. Excitingly, aggressively, jovially. Always new.

Jongin isn’t exactly sure what they should call their relationship now. Kyungsoo says he doesn’t really like labels, and doesn’t want to “impose” on their existing relationship. Jongin personally finds that hilarious since that’s kind of what he was already doing secretly on both ends, but his reasoning is his own and he can respect odd reasoning. If he does refer to Kyungsoo as anything other than his name, it’s either ‘his baby’ or ‘their friend,’ which draws interesting reactions from the people around them, especially at work. ‘Their friend’ is usually the one Kyungsoo seems to react to the most, or most positively. Pet names seem to unnerve him, the same way it does Chanyeol, and Jongin definitely loves it. He loves the concept of him being more comfortable with being ‘theirs’ instead of ‘his.’

Theirs.

It’s addicting, the things he’s exposed to by having both Chanyeol and Kyungsoo in his life, the things he’s able to experience, the amount of love – both psychical and emotional – he’s able to enjoy. Where one drops him off, the other is there to pick up the slack. They even take up for and defend one another now, after letting Jongin vent, of course. He never felt unfulfilled or neglected with Chanyeol, but now he’s almost certain he’s never going to have to worry about that.

Sehun, being the supportive best friend he is, often alludes to the balance in their relationship being out of whack, accuses them of using Kyungsoo like a double ended sex toy, but he’s just talking out of his ass. Jongin’s not worried about that in the least, because there’s no confusion on their part.

People don’t see how good they are for each other, how many holes Kyungsoo was repairing in their relationship before he even knew it. They don’t see how well they complement each other, how beautiful they look together, how complete and full their home and bed and lives feel with Kyungsoo around. It’s not just about sex, not in the least. Not even for Kyungsoo, because too often he’s found himself spending nights and weekends at their place, only being provided with open arms and hot meals, the company of conversations and security. He’s not just in it to get off like many people seem to think, and there are boundaries set. Their relationship is not a free for all.

Their lines are clear, pronounced by no one but them and to no one _but_ them. Chanyeol and Jongin are together. Chanyeol is Jongin’s boyfriend and Jongin is his. They both like Kyungsoo, they both like the way the other looks with Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo makes himself available when they want him, when he wants them, and he has no qualms with being an addition to their lives. To Jongin he’s a friend first and to Chanyeol a lover, but both when wanted, when needed. Chanyeol and Jongin agree to always put each other first and Kyungsoo respects that. After all, Jongin is never shy about claiming Chanyeol in ways that leave no room for misunderstanding.

And Kyungsoo may pretend to gag and make fun of them when they get sappy on him, laugh at their rare bits of genuine cheesiness and jokingly calls them the lovebirds when they get too passionate, but he knows. He knows they care about him greatly, but their relationship will always be first come first served, and he’s fine with it.

Because Chanyeol will always be Jongin’s. Every scratch and bruise and mark Jongin paints onto his skin a constant mantra of **_mine, mine, mine_**. Kyungsoo can have him all he wants, but Jongin is the one Chanyeol loves, the only one he allows to possess him. He’ll always belong to him.

The matching infinity necklaces dangling from their necks have come to be a constant reminder of that.

Jongin reaches up and touches his, a tiny trinket of Chanyeol’s commitment to him, a symbol of his special, stupid way of love that’s better felt than seen or heard. And he has that kind of love for him too, albeit more prominent and noticeable on the surface. It’s been a month and he still can’t get over the lightheaded feeling he got as Chanyeol placed it around his neck that morning after.

He looks down at Chanyeol, nearly asleep in his lap and twirling tufts of Kyungsoo’s tousled hair in his hand. His other hand is still rubbing soft circles into the inside of Jongin’s thigh. Chanyeol’s necklace bounces against his collarbone, moving with more weight thanks to Jongin’s silver ring sharing the chain. Kyungsoo nuzzles into Jongin’s knee as he chews idly on his noisy snack, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of him. He shrinks away from Chanyeol’s hand every time his touch threatens to drift down onto his neck again. Jongin giggles at Kyungsoo’s little shriek when he accidentally bumps his head against Jongin’s knee while jerking away from Chanyeol’s busy hand, and finds a soft, happy smile forming on his face when he notices Chanyeol has a dark hickey purpling right below his ear. One shaped like his mouth, tender to the touch, and Jongin can’t contain the overwhelming contentment he feels as his gaze floats to the identical one strategically placed just below Kyungsoo’s right ear…

Jongin makes it his duty to spend all of his free time mapping the skin of his lovers with his mouth. Some might say he’s too thorough, too touchy, clingy, even, but he can’t help it. Jongin takes every opportunity to marks his territory, and that now includes extending his marks to his boyfriend’s lover – …their lover.

Theirs.

Jongin is nowhere near as insecure as he used to be. He no longer feels their love is anything but normal – their kind of normal. He no longer has visions of losing Chanyeol to some unknown beholder of things he cannot give, but that’s done little to curve his possessiveness when it comes to Chanyeol. If anything, he projects even more of it onto the person who he once silently competed with, coldly pitied, the very person who caused much of his insecurity in the first place. Well, maybe not _caused,_ but certainly exasperated, used to his advantage, maybe even used to excuse his own wrongdoing.

But he’s forgiven that. Maybe too quickly, when he really thinks about it.

Maybe.

Others would say definitely.

But Jongin isn’t like others. Quite far from it, actually.

Just as he and Chanyeol are quite far from a couple who makes sense. They were the definition of unconventional; yet convenient in their own way. They were never meant to be together, yet here they are. Happy in their oddities, in their contemporary reasoning. In love, in lust, in anger, in joy, involved in more ways than they can ever explain. And they still fight, still argue like they can’t stand each other, still act as if they don’t have a kind word to offer the other, but it’s a lot less frequent. For whatever reason, there’s a lot more balance, the sarcastic ‘I love you’s more common than the empty ‘I hate you’s. It’s a change he’s got no problem accepting. Jongin knows it’s still not ideal, not perfect, complicated and conflicting. He knows he and Chanyeol may be the worst matches for each other, that they’re not really improving each other like people in progressive relationships say they should be. He isn’t teaching Chanyeol how to be more considerate and gentle like Zitao does for Sehun. Chanyeol isn’t teaching him how to be calmer or less reactive like Minseok does for Yifan. He knows they aren’t exactly whole together, but still not broken. He knows Chanyeol isn’t exactly the best person, but neither is he, and he’s not that upset by that anymore. He already knew he had the worst boyfriend ever…and now they’re both okay with the fact that he’s just as bad. _Birds of a feather folk together,_ is the phrase Chanyeol’s aunt affectionately used. Jongin feels it definitely suits them in a slightly insulting way. Their entire relationship was always slightly insulting, anyway. They don’t mind it anymore.

He likes it that way. He always liked it that way. He can’t imagine why he had ever doubted his sanity for liking it that way. It doesn’t matter that they’re the worst they can be together, that they’re comfortable stewing in each other’s faults and shortcomings and simplified in only their reasons for staying together. And maybe they are trying a bit harder not to hurt each other, but it’s the only real sign of progression, and Jongin’s fine with it. All that matters is he’s happy. Chanyeol’s happy. Kyungsoo’s happy. And he likes it. He likes that Chanyeol won’t let him fall out of love with him. He likes that he likes Kyungsoo just as much as he likes that he’s in love with Chanyeol. Oversimplified and uneasy, and he likes it that way. He likes it a lot. Almost as much he like incorrectly nursing his light sleeping problem with lots and lots of caffeine.

Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah~ Rereading this story after three years really brings back some heavy OT12 feelings for me. ;~; I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it, this was my first chaptered fic since...? Middle school, I think? lmfao. Shoutout to EXO for inspiring me to do so. 
> 
> Also, if you love music as much as me & have an Apple Music account, you'll probably enjoy taking a listen to [this playlist](http://itunes.apple.com/us/playlist/youre-the-worst/pl.u-55D6ZqVTg16GB9) of some of the songs that shaped my characterization and helped me through some intense spouts of writer's block. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and I'll see you next time around!


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